


Dawn at the Homestead

by Seda



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Fluff, Slow Burn, Smut, So Basically All The Lesbian Classics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-05-30 13:50:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 30,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15097949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seda/pseuds/Seda
Summary: Waverly couldn't sleep.Eventually she got up and crept outside with a blanket, to watch the bleak night fade. As the first rays of dawn set a flame to wisps of clouds, and threw sparks off the distant mountain peaks, Waverly's mood begun to lift.That day, she understood that something significant had changed in her life. And she realised that wherever that would take her, she was willing to go.-The premise of this story is that when Nicole comes to Purgatory, she comes still married, BUT, to a wife that she actually likes and is still with. Apart from that enormous spanner in the works, the story follows canon Season 1 and 2 as closely as it can. Nicole still meets Waverly and they both fall gaga in love with each other, because, of course. But there's no way Nicole would want to go back on a vow honestly taken and meant, and there's no way that Waverly would encourage her to.How would the unstoppable force that is Nicole and Waverly's connection fare against the immovable object of both of their fundamental decency?





	1. Introductions

**Author's Note:**

> So, the whole canon marriage thing has always bugged me. Not for the pure fact of Nicole being married, so much the circumstance and the way it was all handled on the show. Slots, Britney, and a quickie Vegas wedding? Really? Miss Pleat-in-her-Pants herself? I just don't see it.
> 
> I can, however, see Nicole being married, and I can see her getting married for arguably the wrong reasons. Reasons not purely about romantic love, anyway, which is how I've written it here.
> 
> I also wanted to write a story where Waverly was sure of her feelings from early on, and see how she copes being the one to wait. (Am I a horrible person? Yes, yes I probably am.)
> 
> Apart from that, I try to keep to the overall canon arc and characters. Nicole's wife is an original character, as Shae carries too much baggage for the fandom, but it's really not about her, it is fundamentally a Waverly / Nicole two-header, with the occasional smattering of Wynonna to keep us honest. And don't worry campers, the M rating has nothing to do with Nicole and her wife. Ain't nobody want to read that shit. ;0)
> 
> So. In summary, I basically go through Seasons 1 and 2, and ruin all our favourite Wayhaught scenes. Enjoy(!)

“Nic? A little help over here?!”

A slim twenty-something woman with a scruffy look about her that went beyond her baggy pants, sweatshirt, and straight black hair pulled untidily back into an elastic band, was struggling with a heavy cardboard box. Propped up against the railing of a porch, half supported by one of her legs brought awkwardly up underneath where the box tape was starting to give way, she tried her best to look over her shoulder to the moving van parked out in the street.

“Nic? Nicole?!” she shouted, a little desperately as she could feel the sweat on her face cause her glasses to slip down her nose a little, and both her vision and her grasp on the box slip with it.

Hurrying steps, and then one long arm reached under the box, whilst another reached over and pushed Christine’s square black glasses back up her nose. A happy, dimpled grin came back into focus.

“Can Purgatory Sheriff's department's newest deputy help you out, ma’am?” said Nicole Haught. Tall and lean, with red hair slightly damp from the exertions of moving day, and an excited puppyish energy about her, and Christine couldn't help but smile herself.

“I don’t know, but my _wife_ can. What do you need all these books for anyway? I bought you a kindle last Christmas, you've barely touched it.” she grumbled good naturedly, as they shifted the box between them.

“Can’t get ‘Themes in Law Enforcement Leadership: Lessons Ancient and Modern’ for the kindle." teased Nicole right back, grinning at their easy banter as they carried the heavy box up the steps. Sharing the weight, like they'd shared all the burdens of their years together; between them.

 

* * *

 

 

Waverly Earp was swaying to the music that she’d put on to keep her company at Shorty’s as she cleaned the bar, preparing both it and herself for opening time. She was lost in thought about the events of the previous evening, and all that Wynonna's return meant.

The return of The Curse. The return of the one other person in the small town she could truly talk to about it, but that self same person who had been running from it, figuratively or literally, her whole life.

Distracted, she knocked the end of a beer tap, which sputtered open, soaking her top by the time she got it shut off.

“Perfect.” Waverly sighed, and then jumped when she heard a voice break into her reverie.

“When Nedley said the beer always flowed at Shorty's I didn't know he meant it literally!”

Waverly looked up to see a Sheriff's Deputy looking at her from the door. Her first thought was, wow, a female deputy, Purgatory really is coming on in leaps and bounds.

“You okay?” said the woman, a generous laugh in her voice, as she straightened from her loose lean against the door and started to stroll over to the bar.

“Yeah, just had a...a crazy night.”

“I'm sorry I - uh, the Sheriff's department wasn't here to help.”

Waverly’s second thought, as the woman smiled at her and introduced herself, was just, _wow_.

She was...something else. Waverly could feel a part of her brain racing in the background. Yes it said, you thought you might not be quite as straight as you've so far let small town assumptions paint you. No, you've not had any encounters in the real world that have let you be sure of this.

And as this Officer Nicole what-was-it takes her hand and shakes it; yes, it says, you are now sure. Very, very, sure.

Waverly could feel her nervousness in stark contrast to the smooth and apparently unflappable charm of the woman in front of her, as she asks for a coffee. When Waverly tells her they're not serving yet, Nicole just smiles, and says, “No problem. I'm sorry to disturb you when you're getting ready to open. Just when I see something I want - “ The officer cuts herself off, frowning almost confusedly. And then goes on, a little lamely. “Your door was open.”

Waverly doesn't notice the slight hitch in the officer’s easy flow. She's more than occupied cataloguing her own reaction to the woman opposite her, feeling increasingly intrigued, and increasingly flustered.

Flustered enough that when she tries to get out of her wet top she, quite ridiculously, manages to get stuck and has to ask Nicole for help. When that's done and Waverly is left standing rather closer to this stranger than decorum would normally suggest, to her mild horror she hears herself saying the first thing that comes into her mind, to clumsily check what feels like a pretty certain guess.

“Good thing you're not a guy, right, or this would be really, really awkward.”

She catches the duck of the head, the smile. And a long hidden part of her starts to light up; and Waverly suddenly feels brave. “I owe you. How about I buy you that coffee? How about tonight?”

“I’d love - I’d like that. But I can't tonight I'm afraid, I've got plans.”

“Oh, okay, that's no problem, okay so -”

“With my wife.” Nicole interrupts her.

There is a beat, whilst Waverly simultaneously takes in confirmation on her guess, and is hit by an almost physical surge of disappointment that seems vastly out of proportion to their all of two minute acquaintance. She gathers herself together, feeling suddenly as exposed as she should feel, stood half undressed in an empty bar in front of a total stranger. She thinks she thinks she sees a flash of something pass across Nicole's face too; that confusion again maybe? And then some sort of moment between them has passed and gone.

Waverly recovers. And Waverly is Waverly, so then she overcompensates.

“Okay, well that's great, why don't we make a plan some other time, and yeah, why don't you bring her? I’m in a relationship too; I mean a relationship with a boy - a man - and I can bring him too, it can be like a double date? Why don't you leave me your number, we can arrange something for when you're free?”

As she stumbles and stutters on she sees no disdain or second hand embarrassment in Nicole like she's half expecting to, but instead sees her soft smile come back, slowly; like she’s unconscious of it starting to emerge again.

“Sure, Waverly, that would be really great. Here, I think I've got a card somewhere.” She pulls out a few business cards from a pocket and places the top one, clean and untouched, down on the bar.

“Great. I’ll call you then?”

Nicole just nods, walks round the bar, picks up her hat, puts it on.

“I’m counting on it. It was really good to meet you, Waverly Earp.”

She leaves the bar. She doesn't look back.

Waverly waits until Nicole’s left the door, and then picks up the business card.

“It was really good to meet you too. Officer...Haught. Of course.”

 

_Wow._

 

 

* * *

 

 

Nicole sits outside in the police cruiser, head ducked, heart hammering, gripping the steering wheel tight like it held all the answers she needed, as questions ran through her mind.

It wasn't the first time she'd seen Waverly Earp. On her first patrol of the town, accompanied by Nedley, she'd asked questions about many of the townspeople they’d seen on the streets. Fair questions, expected in orientation week; so when a slight young woman opening a bar door had caught Nicole’s eye, it wasn't out of place to ask.

But Nicole was not immune to good looking women, and though it was subtle enough for the Sheriff to miss it, Nicole knew herself too well, and she at least could hear the difference in her tone.

“Who’s...that?”

A week later, and she was sat asking herself the same question.

Who was _that_? Jesus. _What_ was that? Who was _she_?

And what the _hell_ do I think I'm doing flirting with her?

 

* * *

 

 

A few days later they go on that double date.

It is...awkward. Waverly's boyfriend Champ is all toxic masculinity and no charm at all, interrupting or talking over Waverly frequently, and flat out ignoring Christine, who retreats into monosyllabic quiet in protest. Nicole does her best to keep conversation moving, but thinks maybe she was mistaken about Waverly after all. She seems like a different person now, still bubbly and fun, but with a flat and hard edge to her, as she laughs at Champ’s bad jokes and ignores his railroading of the other women's conversation.

But still, Nicole can't stop looking at Waverly, can't stop feeling the strangest feeling; like she recognises her from somewhere.

When they get home, Christine has moved through reticent and into a full blown sulk.

“Well, that was fun,” she said, in the sarcastic withdrawn tone Nicole hated. “I know you're keen to fit in with this town but honestly? You're starting with a waitress and her hick boyfriend?”

“She's not just a waitress,” Nicole snapped, annoyed. “Didn't you hear her talk about her studies on the town?”

Christine rolled her eyes. “Sure. Her great aunt's local historical society I’ll bet, or she's googled a grandparent or two. Anyway, how about, oh God I can't bring myself to say it - _Champ_? I mean, who does that? Who literally calls themselves Champ?”

Nicole laughs at this, turns and points a finger, raised her eyebrows in acquiescence. “No. You're right there. He's a dick.”

Christine giggles, the tension dissipating, and walks herself into a hug with Nicole. Looks up to her partner, and goes on in a conciliatory tone. “You're a good cop, Nic. And you're a better person. This town is going to love you. You don't have to force it, you know?”

“I guess. Thanks, Chris.” She returns the hug, reassured by the warm familiar comfort.

 

* * *

 

 

The next time they meet up, they both leave their partners at home.

“No Champ today?” Nicole asks, politely, as the waitress in the local diner pours them both their coffees. And just about succeeds in keeping her face straight when Waverly wrinkles her nose with apparent distaste.

“What, after his charming performance last time? I really am sorry Nicole. He’s not all bad you know, but you didn't exactly see him at his best.”

Nicole pretends to study the menu, letting out only a non-committal “Mm”.

“Will you pass on my apologies for him to Christine too? Or, is she joining us?”

“No, she’s on a deadline and couldn't make it.” Nicole felt awkward about the lie, but wasn't going to rehash the mini-argument they'd had, with Chris grumbling about Nicole wasting time with backwater types, and Nicole defending her assertion that the local bar was practically a community centre in a town like this, and getting to know the bar staff a great shortcut to getting to know the town. She had been irked, irritated by Chris’s challenging her choice, and irritated by the strange strength of her convictions that made her not want to back down.

“So…how did you and Champ get together then?”

How? She meant why. She was pretty sure Waverly got that too, as with first an amused twinkle in her eye, and then a wry shrug, dismissed the line of questioning.

“Champ was my high school sweetheart, and we’ve always been in each other’s lives one way or another. And it’s a small town, so…”

Nicole had to cover a laugh as Waverly rolled her eyes. Practically telling Nicole she wouldn't be with him if she had a better option.

“How about you and Christine? I guess if you’re married you've been together a while?”

“Seven years, yeah. We met in college, and were friends first, and then we...” Nicole could actually feel herself blushing, for some reason not wanting to say it. “We hooked up, and we’ve been together ever since. But it's not so much how long we've been together, so much as what we've been through together.”

Waverly stirred her coffee, trying not to let a strange surge of concern at the idea of Nicole having to go through anything show. “Oh? How so?”

“This and that,” Nicole started off evasively. But then met Waverly’s softly curious eyes, and something made her go on. “Chris’s family are pretty traditional. They've not been so great about the whole gay thing, and for a while there in college she was going to have to choose between being who she was, and having parents who spoke to her.”

“Ooh, ouch. I'm sorry Nicole, that must've been so hard for her. For you both?”

Nicole just raised her eyebrows in acknowledgement.

“And your parents…” Waverly asked in a quiet, undemanding tone. “Same sort of thing, or…?” She was surprised when Nicole sat back, and actually laughed.

“No no, quite the opposite actually. I think they were honestly delighted I was doing something away from the straight and narrow. So as to speak.”

She was smiling, but Waverly could see the smile was a little strained. There was something else behind there, something in Nicole's eyes. Again, gently, she asked without asking. “Nicole?”

There was a long silence, in which Nicole held Waverly’s gaze. And then found herself, more than a little to her own surprise, telling Waverly about her parents.

 

She told her about how they were old school hippies and drop-outs. About how her and her little brother had been raised in a series of squats, friends’ spare rooms, and finally the comparative luxury of their own trailer. How they had been jokingly referred to by the social workers and school teachers who got involved as “free range children”, as their parents had given them a completely free reign, a supposed gift of freedom which was in truth bordering on disinterest. Bordering on neglect.

Nicole had made a point of emphasising that there was a lot of good in an upbringing like this, that it taught her independence, and strength, and how to care for others; as she had first been obliged and then grown to take satisfaction in taking a leading part in the raising of her own little brother.

But then Nicole had looked into Waverly’s eyes again, and saw her looking searchingly back at her, and she fell silent, finding herself for once unable to go with her standard lie, that it was all fine, that it was all character building. She closed her eyes, and remembered.

She could still almost feel the hunger from another night with the dinner money going on beer and weed. The humiliation a teenager felt of having to go to school in old tie-dye clothes, too small after her height had started shooting up, and worse than that, dirty and smelling too much of misspent adulthood and hormonal youth. Laundry was the one chore she couldn't do for her folks, their withholding of even the small change needed for the machines a supposed stand against bourgeois values; but Nicole knew was just an excuse for another beer, another pack of smokes.

Nicole was brought back from the old hurt to a present suddenly warm and soft, as she felt Waverly take one of her hands with both of hers, and start to stroke slow, comforting patterns across her knuckles. It gave her the strength to continue.

“At school some of the teachers knew what the deal was, so when my folks were late picking me up, they'd let me stay behind and found odd jobs for me to do. And then found a way to pay me for it.” She laughed. “Looking back I'm pretty sure under child labour laws that was, like, super illegal. I mean, I was thirteen or something when it started.”

“Thirteen?” repeated Waverly, shaking her head and giving a low knowing whistle. “Yep. That's too young to have adulthood put on you.”

This time it was Nicole's turn to catch something behind Waverly's words.

“Anyway, after that, it got much better. I had my own money, which meant I could buy stuff, just small stuff, but it made a difference you know? Knowing I could buy for myself the things I wanted.”

Simple things, Nicole thought a little bitterly. Simple things like food, clothes; laundry soap. Toys for her brother.

“And I found I liked the responsibility at school, and started to understand you need rules and order, and people to enforce that, if you wanted something big like a school to run. My friends thought I was so weird, like they thought my parents were the coolest, you know, they would give us beer and smokes and hang out with us? And yet there I was,” she laughs again, raising a self-deprecating eyebrow at herself, “locking up classrooms and making sure the janitorial supplies were fully stocked.”

Waverly smiled warmly at the image of a teenaged Nicole solemnly stacking bottles of bleach. She could totally see it. “And that's what got you thinking about the police?”

“Sort of. I'd done a lot of thinking, about my parents and my brother and myself, and how we all were such different personalities. And so I went to college to study psychology, and then took a criminology module, and loved it, and, well.” A shrug. “I knew I always wanted to serve in some way, and for all that I'm not my parents, I couldn't sit still in an office or a classroom either, so. Here I am.”

Nicole gave a crooked grin, and half an easy shrug, and Waverly felt a shiver flare at the movement.

“And honestly Waverly, I like it. I find uniform works suits me.”

“You can say that again,” said Waverly, not thinking; then blushing furiously, covered herself with “and how did your parents react to that choice? Doesn't sound exactly in their wheelhouse.”

“Eh...yeah, not great. That's kinda how me and Chris decided to get married, actually.”

Waverly had still been holding loosely onto Nicole’s hand this whole time, but with last statement Nicole sat back, and their hands fell apart. And then both sets went to their respective drinks; as if feeling the sudden absence of warmth and comfort.

“When I told them we had this _huge_ argument. They were accused me of being a 'willing pawn of the prison industrial complex’, I think it was.” Nicole had put on a stoner drawl, which for all the seriousness of the conversation made Waverly giggle. She saw a shot of happiness in Nicole's eyes at that, and then half an ironic smile as she continued, “and I may have told them that if they put as much effort into protesting, or god forbid actually standing for office and _acting_ on their convictions, as they did their Harold and Kumar impression that they might actually be able to do something about that, instead of just rotting themselves away to nothing and taking their frustrations out on me.

And that was that. When I got back Chris had had another impossible conversation with her mother, who was still refusing to acknowledge I existed, and, well. I told her that we could just be each other’s families, and I proposed.”

Waverly looked at Nicole with mixed emotions, but managed to find genuine warmth in her voice. “That's beautiful, Nicole. That all sounds so tough; I'm so glad you've got each other.”

“Yeah. She's been everything to me.” Nicole said this quietly, like she was telling herself. “God, enough about me though. What about you. Do you get on with your folks?”

“Ahhhh...that's maybe a story for another day, Nicole.”

“Aw, c’mon, I've just bared my soul, you can’t hold back now!”

Nicole had been joking, but then saw the look Waverly was giving her. Unsure, and with a worried looking half-smile. And Nicole didn’t know where this understanding was coming from, because on the face of it Waverly’s expression wasn’t giving anything away, but Nicola felt it, she felt something of a great sadness hiding somewhere in the shadows.

“Waverly?” Nicole asked, suddenly worried.

“Well. Okay. You're right, you just shared something really personal, so it's only fair. Just - please believe me when I tell you I'm not trying to trump anything here.”

Nicole frowned, as Waverly tilted her head, and started to pick her words carefully.

“My parents aren't exactly around. My mom left when I was little, just about four. And Daddy was the Sheriff, and, well, a couple of years later...”

She paused, suddenly wanting to tell Nicole the whole truth rather than the standard lie. But she knew she couldn't, knew she couldn't tell this virtual stranger the things that even those who experienced them doubted were real.

So she went on, telling Nicole the standard 'gang with a grudge’ version of the night her eldest sister was taken, and her father shot by her other sister, as Nicole’s face registered increasing bewilderment and disbelief at the story. Finally, Waverly fell silent, fidgeting with her coffee cup.

“So. There it is.” Waverly said a little nervously, begging internally for Nicole not to react the way she was sure she would.

“Fuck. Sorry, but Jesus, Waverly? I don't know what to say.” Nicole looked so distressed for her, her brown eyes deep and searching Waverly’s.

“I'm can't believe you let me sit here and…”

“Hey. Don't.” Waverly interrupted, starting to hold up a finger as Nicole started to look ashamed of herself.

“...and talk about my…”

“Don't! Don't you _dare_ , Nicole Haught.” Waverly leaned forward, grabbed one of Nicole's hands again. There was a second of shock, as she felt a jolt through her whole body at the renewed physical contact, but then pushed on. “This doesn't diminish or lessen in _any way_ what you just told me, Nicole. I mean, sure, what happened was bad. But after it happened my aunt and uncle took us in, and after that I honestly had a pretty happy childhood. They cared for us, and loved us, and gave me everything a child could want. All the things it sounds like you never had. You were just a child, Nicole, you deserved all that too. And you didn't deserve what you had to go through, okay?”

Nicole was lost for words, and just shook her head, her own thumb moving across Waverly’s hand now. Scarcely believing that this girl, this incredible young woman could be so kind to her, when her own story carried such pain.

“Yeah. Okay. I'm just so sorry, Waves. I'm so so sorry.”

 

The conversation finally moved onto lighter topics. But this time neither let go of the other’s hand.


	2. Falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our first dawn.

The night after she had first met Nicole, Waverly had gone home and spent half the night awake, working through what the instant attraction meant for her and her sexuality. 

The second time, she’d been so ashamed of Champ, and seeing him as if through the fresh eyes of the newcomers to the town, couldn't believe she continued to give him free pass after pass. And thought hard about who she thought she was, who other people thought she was, and who she really wanted to be.

 

This time, she got home, and went to bed, and, hugging a pillow, wrestled with what she knew now to be a simple fact. Nicole was going to be an important somebody to her. She knew. She _knew_. She felt such a connection with her. 

And yet, she told herself again and again. _She’s married. She already has her important person. And it's not me. It can never be me._

 

She couldn't sleep.

 

Eventually she got up, made a cup of tea, and crept outside with a blanket, to watch the bleak night fade. As the first rays of dawn set a flame to wisps of clouds, and threw sparks off the distant mountain peaks, Waverly's mood begun to lift.

That day, she understood that something significant had changed in her life. And she realised that wherever that would take her, she was willing to go.

 

* * *

 

Nicole was happy in her relationship with Christine. Contented, and settled, and happy. And they'd been through so much together, she couldn't imagine going through her life without Chris right by her side.

But, she started to notice something, as her friendship with Waverly developed and solidified.

Odd times of the day she'd start thinking about her. She’d be in her cruiser, and find a thought come unbidden. I wonder what Waverly's doing right now? She’d be making her lunch, and she’d think, I wonder if Waverly would like this?

Nicole wasn't stupid. She’d been easy and in touch with her sexuality from an early age, and had no trouble recognising just how much she was attracted to Waverly. She was beautiful, how could she not be?

But she’d been uncomplicatedly attracted to women her whole life, women in general, and from time to time, one or another individually. Before meeting Chris, and even still after. But it had always been a simple thing, a harmless and idle pleasure to help pass the day, and never ever to be acted on. Always a sign of a simple physical appreciation, and never more than that.

Never before had an attraction got so very stuck in her _mind_.

So why now was Waverly?

 

Why was Nicole’s sleep starting to become haunted by her? Why did she come to her in her dreams, why did she start waking up practically every goddamned day thinking of _her_ , instead of the woman she was married to, the woman lying next to her in her bed?

What was this constant, nagging, _pulling?_

 

* * *

 

Waverly at least wasn't troubled by any doubt. She knew that she was falling for Nicole, more than she had expected, more than she had realised was possible.

She’s married, she told herself for the hundredth time. We’re just friends; she's not shown any interest in you, not like that. Well, okay, sometimes she looks. Sometimes you catch her looking. But she's _married_.

And, anyway, you've got Champ; he may not be perfect, but he's always been enough before.

He wasn't enough now.

She was too distracted. Somewhere along the line she lost Champ, suddenly unable to stomach his touch. Not when all she could think about these days was what another touch might be like. Another kiss...

So yes, Waverly knew full well that she was falling for Nicole. She could see every slip and tumble. From the very beginning of their friendship, when the shock of losing Shorty had her at the edge of her ability to cope, and Nicole's comforting touch on her arm had overwhelmed her completely.

To the fact that when Nicole smiled at her at the station, an unguarded simple smile, Waverly’s heart would flutter and her stomach would flip.

And then after that night of horror at the homestead, how the sight of Nicole stood talking to Wynonna, tall and sure and composed, the protective symbolism of her uniform combining with what she'd started to recognise as Nicole's own inner strength, made Waverly feel safer than she had done for weeks.

But, at the same time, as unsafe and lost as she'd been in her whole life. Because these feelings she had were so strong, so consuming, she didn't know what she was supposed to do with them.

She tried to look away from Nicole, she really did. But she looked so very good, in the golden morning light, in her stetson, in her uniform, looking so solid and steady and just so wonderfully _Nicole_. She saw Nicole give a half wave, an upward nod of her head in hello and goodbye. And Waverly couldn't help but look back, and wave back herself, and smile.

 

* * *

 

A night of horror? Try another day too. Because Wynonna was taken, and Nicole was hurt, and the twisted evil of the last of the Seven carried a terror beyond the simple posturing threats of the revenants so far.

When they heard that Nicole had been found, Waverly came to the hospital with Dolls and Doc. She needed to see Nicole with her own two eyes, but was unwilling to defy doctor’s orders like they had to talk to her. So when she saw Christine rush into Nicole's hospital room, distraught and panicking, she physically dragged the two men away from their questioning of Nicole, livid with them and livid with Black Badge and Purgatory and _everything_ that followed the Earps around, which was now seemingly starting to affect Nicole too.

 

* * *

 

 

A couple of days later she called at Nicole's house. Christine opened the door.

“Hi, Waverly. You here to see Nic?”

“Uhuh - if that's convenient? I don't want to disturb you?”

Chris opened the door, let her in. “She's sleeping right now, but do you want to come in for a second?” She gestured to a seat by a small dining room table.

“How's she doing?”

“She's okay. The doctor says she's going to be sore for a while, but there's no permanent damage.”

Waverly took and let out a deep breath. “Good. Thank God. I'm.. I’m so sorry, Chris.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean - nothing, it's just that it happened with my sister, when she was coming back from our homestead, and…” she trailed off, and Christine clicked her tongue in frustration.

“It’s okay, Waverly. Trouble seems to have a way of finding Nicole.” She looked upset, even more than she legitimately had a right to be.

Waverly laid a careful hand on Chris’ arm, who let it rest there for a second, and then pulled back, crossing her arms protectively against herself.

“Are _you_ okay, Chris?”

There was a small shake of a head.

“It’s hard. It's just - I'm sorry, I don't know you at all. But Nic raves about you, and I don't know anyone else here I can talk to about this. About her?”

Waverly nodded for her to go on.

“We fought about coming out here when Nicole got the call. No offense, but it's the middle of nowhere, and we’re both city girls at heart, and even though with my writing I can work anywhere, I _really_ didn't want to come out here all the way in the boondoinks. But in the end what changed my mind was that I thought at least outside a city she'd be safer. You have no idea what it's like, being married to a cop, Waverly.”

Who just nodded, and said in a quiet and undemonstrative voice. “My father was the Sheriff here. He was shot and killed in the line. I kinda get it, a little.”

Chris looked up into Waverly's sympathetic eyes, surprised, and then smiled, pained but a bit warmer than she had been to date. “I think I owe you an apology, Waverly.”

“Oh please, how were you - “

“Not about that. I think I underestimated you. I should've known, Nicole's a better judge of character than I am.”

 

“Somebody talking about me?”

Nicole’s voice, weak but joking came from a door to the room, where she was stood, leaning onto the door frame for support. She looked pale, and tired, and her hair wasn't washed, but she gave a crooked grin; and Waverly had to swallow, hard.

“Nicole Haught _what_ are you doing out of bed?” Chris jumped up and went to her, wrapped the blanket she had around her shoulders a little snugger, and helped her to the table, wincing in sympathy as Nicole's face twisted in pain as she sat.

Waverly just watched her, relief surging at the sight of her. She wanted to reach out and just _touch_ her so, so much. But she knew she couldn’t, and really seeing her was enough, and so she just smiled and smiled at Nicole, knowing she must look a little soft, but not caring, not caring at all.

Christine, still focussed on Nicole, spoke first, still worried. “I'm really not sure you should be up, babe. Can I get you something, a tea, anything?”

“I’m okay here for a minute. I’m going crazy just lying there in that bed. Tea would be great, though? Thanks Chris.”

“Okay, coming right up. Waverly, can I get you anything?”

“What? Um, no, no thanks. I just wanted to come to see if Nicole was okay.” She hadn't been able to tear her gaze away from Nicole, and couldn't stop herself from going on, in a softer voice, almost a whisper “And you are. You're okay.”

A beat, and then she heard Chris say, surprised, but not unkindly, “Oh. _Oh._  I really have underestimated you, haven't I, Waverly?”

Chris turned and headed for the kitchen, and Waverly and Nicole sit, and look at each other, and breath, and smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ehh, I'm so crap at set-up. Last chapter was not great, but a necessary evil. This one? Others have done it better, frankly.
> 
> The consequences of our scenario all gets a bit more real from next chapter on, when the canon characters get together, and these ones...well. You'll see.
> 
> Kudos-ers, I heart you. You know that, right?


	3. Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waverly and Nicole _talk_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And, we're off to the races. This is just a very short update, but an important one.

A couple of weeks later, and the physical wounds from that night at least are healed. Nicole is back at work; and Waverly is back to trying to keep her feelings in check when they see each other.

She's not been entirely successful. Now that she's seen Nicole in a hospital bed, wounded and banged up, after what must have been a horrible and traumatising experience, all the affection she already feels is added to and multiplied by worry and care and concern. When she sees Nicole now she has to twist her hands together to stop from reaching out, as if she needs contact to truly believe she's okay. She's not touched her since that day in the diner, and she misses it so much. She just wants to touch her, hold her hand, _anything_ , it doesn't matter. She just wants to touch her.

 

* * *

 

One day, outside the police station, Nicole literally runs into Waverly.

“Whoa, where's the hold up?” Waverly can hear the false tone in her own voice as she jokes, lamely. Is this how it's going to be from now on? She can't even speak normally to Nicole?

“Right. Sorry, can we talk?”

Oh, shitballs, thinks Waverly.

“Yeah. God, yeah. If you want to talk, we can talk…” Waverly takes a deep breath, and steels herself.

“I'm not...I'm not crazy, right? There's something going on here?”

Waverly’s heart jumps, and then starts hammering out a nervous rhythm. Oh shitting _shit_ . She's worked it out. She _knows_.

“No, you're not crazy. But I'm not sure I'm really ready to, hoo, to get into it.”

“Why not?”

Waverly boggled. “Because it's kinda difficult for me, Nicole.”

“But it's difficult for _everybody_ , right?”

Waverly looks panicked at Nicole. “What do you mean? Have you said something to Chris?”

“What? No! I mean, she won’t know as much about it as you do, right? Or me, seeing this sort of stuff practically every day!”

Waverly felt an actual stab of pain in her chest. The incredulous, almost angry way in which Nicole had said that. She replied, unable to keep the regret out of her voice.

“No, no, I get it Nicole. You’re a lesbian, but you’re married, right?”

“ _What?_ ”

“What?”

Nicole shook her head, utterly confused and more than a little annoyed. “What are you talking about, Waverly? God, this _town!_ ”

She doesn't wait for an answer, but hold up a hand, then just storms off, leaving Waverly standing alone; with a horrible realisation about the nature of their interaction dawning on her.

 

* * *

 

One awkward making-up conversation in Nicole’s police cruiser later, and Waverly felt slightly better. Nicole had been her usual no-nonsense protective self, tracking her down on the road out of town and not taking no for an answer when she had initially refused to get in the car. She’d been kind, and steady, and apologised for walking off; and although they still didn’t talked about what was really going on, in either of their conversations, there was a look of sympathy and caring in Nicole’s eyes that said that she understood.

Waverly had nearly cried when she’d put a hand on Waverly’s knee and promised her it would be alright; not knowing how it possibly could be, when all she wanted to do was take that hand, and kiss it. To turn to Nicole, and put her own hands on her, and to kiss _her_.

Nicole had assured her they were still friends, and hearing it put as clearly as that - friends but only friends - had hurt. But it was a hurt that Waverly was starting to get used to, and in some hopeless way, almost started to begrudgingly welcome. It was an ache, but an ache that meant Nicole. And that was something at least.

 

Later on during her shift at Shorty's, she'd gone over the whole thing, over and over again. She went back to the start of that day, when she'd thought that Nicole and her were finally going to talk about it. And realised it had been a relief, of sorts, to think that finally it was all going to come out in the open.

 

Maybe that’s the way I can get past this, Waverly thought? Maybe if I just tell her it’ll lose its power? And I can be the true friend to her that she wants, that she deserves?

 

* * *

 

So it was that she burst into the police station, taking Nicole’s hand, and pulling her into Nedley's office, closing the door and blinds behind her as she pulls off her heavy coat and turns to a baffled and worried looking Nicole.

“Wave? What's going on - ”

“So. Here's the thing. I'm gay. Or, bi, or, or. I don't know. It doesn't matter right now. The point is I...I...I'm attracted to you, Nicole.”

Nicole’s eyes widen and she stares at Waverly, not quite believing what she’s hearing.

“What?”

“I'm attracted to you. Yeah. Like, really, _really_ attracted to you. And. Well, the truth is, I've also...I've kinda got feelings for you, Nicole. Kinda...big feelings.

This last was delivered in a quieter, almost scared voice. Waverly looked into Nicole’s deep brown eyes, seeing understanding and then compassion grow there, until the implication of that hurt too much, and she had to turn away. As Nicole leans back and half sits on Nedley's desk; Waverly starts pacing back and forwards in tight turns, and so she doesn't notice just how hard Nicole's hands grip the edge of the desk.

“And, I know you're married, and I know you don't feel...I know you can't ever even _begin_ to think about me that way, but it's been driving me crazy, and I can't get past it, and I thought you were going to ask me about it today, and I was so scared, but then I realised I was actually relieved, because you know I kinda want you to know? I want you to know how _amazing_ I think you are, and how beautiful I think you are, and…”

The rush of words started to slow, and Waverly's tone grew higher and shakier, as she tried to swallow back tears.

“And how much I care about you, and so. Here I am, telling you, and I'm hoping that maybe that will get it out of my system, and, I don't know, maybe you've got some advice on how to get past hopeless crushes on women, or…”

She finally stops, and puts a hand to her face, struggles and just about manages to compose herself.

And then nearly loses it again when she hears the tenderness in Nicole's voice.

“Oh, Waverly.”

There is a stretching silence in which Nicole just looks at Waverly, her heart aching, not knowing how on earth to begin to deal with the situation.

“Step in any time, Nicole. Because I really, really don't know how to do this.”

Nicole takes a deep breath. “Okay. Okay. How long have you felt like this?”

“What, the whole gay thing? Or you?” Waverly manages a wry half smile, through liquid eyes.

“Let's start...let's start with the whole liking women thing.” Nicole's tone is soft, careful.

“I don't know. Always, I guess. Only until I met you, it was always just theoretical.” She shrugs, helplessly.

“Okay. And...me?”

Waverly chokes out a laugh, and it's enough that the tears finally escape her eyes, and then start to fall in earnest.

“Always. It feels like I've l- liked you always.”

 _Always_. The word makes something resonate deep inside Nicole’s chest, and she can't help but take a step towards Waverly, who has given up trying to stop herself cry, and is now just stood in front of her openly in tears, broken but brave and still so so beautiful…

“I...you’re right, Waverly. I'm so sorry, but I can't...but. Can I just...can I give you a hug?”

Waverly nods, pain etched on her face, closing her eyes at the overwhelming need of it. And then feels a hand on her shoulder, pulling gently, and then she leans, and feels arms wrap around her, and then feels a surge of warmth, and comfort, and, damnit, _desire_ , wash through her as Nicole pulls her close into her, and feels her body respond and her arms link around Nicole's waist and she's holding on so tight, and crying, and Nicole's arms tighten around her shoulders, and she can't help but burrow her head into Nicole's neck, and just soak up this feeling, this incredible feeling of being in Nicole's arms, of her gentle hands stroking her back, her hair, of the softness of her, of the strength and warmth and solidity of Nicole. Of the strength and warmth and solidity of her feelings for Nicole.

“It's okay. It's gonna be okay.”

Waverly registers but can't process why Nicole's voice sounds so shaky, and with a note in there like she's trying to convince both of them. “You can get through this, Waves. You're going to be okay. This is all going to be okay. I _promise_.”

A minute passes, and then another, until Waverly's sobs have quietened, and now there's just the occasional hitch of breath from Waverly, and quiet whispers of “Shh, shh, it's okay Wave, you’re okay” from Nicole, who stands, holding her, her own eyes closed and brow furrowed.

And it feels so peaceful. Waverly knows she should pull away, but can't bring herself to end the embrace. She knows the memory of this contact is going to have to last her a lifetime, and so she just lets herself feel the myriad sensations that came from being held so close by Nicole. Knowing that each second of this perfect feeling would have to last her a month of cold empty nights.

And those quiet seconds pass, and mount up, and Nicole doesn't let go either, her comforting stilled to a single movement of a thumb back and forth on Waverly's shoulder. Until, finally, Waverly feels Nicole place one light kiss to her head, and her arms tighten in a final squeeze, and then she steps back, still holding onto Waverly's shoulders, ducking her head to try to catch her eyes.

“Okay?”

“Yeah. I'm alright.”

“I'm so glad you felt you could talk to me about this, Waves. But, can we pick this up again later? I'm kinda - “ Nicole gestures at the office around them, too polite to flat out tell Waverly that she was still on duty, and she really had to leave.

“Yes. God, of course.” Waverly pulls herself together, picks up her coat, and pulls it slowly on.

“Thanks, Nicole. And I'm sorry for bursting in on you like this. And for dropping all this on you.”

“Hey. It's okay. I mean it, I'm glad you told me. And you can always talk to me about what you're going through, Waves. You know, I've been there, done that…”

“Bought the gay t-shirt.” Waverly finishes for her, almost back to her regular chirpy self, and they both laugh. And Waverly is so happy and relieved that it doesn’t feel weird, or awkward, and that they’re able to stand here and joke, and that the world is, somehow, still turning.

“Okay. So, I'm gonna go. I'll see you around, Nicole?”

“Sure. Will you text me?”

Waverly smiles, getting ready to put her public face back on. Pauses with one hand still on the doorframe.

“Yeah. I - just, thanks Nicole.”

She takes one last look back, and then leaves the office, closing the door behind her.

  
  
Nicole sits heavily back against Nedley's desk, wrapping her own arms around her middle, but it's nothing to compare, _nothing,_ and she has to bite her lip, hard, against the empty feeling she can feel all down her front, where Waverly had been, and where she had felt so _right_. The feeling of loss is so strong it actually hurts, and Nicole has to raise her own eyes to the ceiling and take deep, steadying breaths, until she’s sure that she can stop her own tears from falling.

“Oh, _Waverly._  I wish you hadn't told me that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel sort of a bit blasphemous for doing this to the iconic episode 1x09. Forgive me Earpers for I have sinned. ;)
> 
> But, these are the scenes I first saw when I was having the idea for this fic, so have to admit to really enjoying writing them. Hope you're not too cross!


	4. Purgatory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Willa is back. And is **bad** news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is ridiculously short, I'm afraid. A mini bijou chapter-ette, if you will. But it takes us up to the end of Season 1, so seemed right to cut it off at the end there.
> 
> So can I just take the opportunity to beef up the word count to waffle on a bit and say thank you so much to anyone who's leaving kudos or comments on this, or for that matter anyone's fics. I know everyone says it, but that's because it's truuuue, it really does mean the world. It's a nerve-wracking thing putting these things out there, and to get that feedback is mega super reassuring. 
> 
> I've been particularly worried about this one, partly cos I'm not so sure on the writing...I've followed a different pattern here than normal, getting the whole thing down before starting to post. Which means early chapters have been edited and re-edited and futzed with to buggery, to ultimately stilting effect, I think. You can expect the return to poorly edited but hopefully slightly more flowing stuff later on.
> 
> But mostly I'm nervous cos I'm doing such _horrible_ things to such beloved scenes ;-)
> 
> Anyway, blah blah blah writer's insecurity blah. That's not why you're here. On with the show...

After that, for Waverly, it does actually start to get easier.

She doesn’t feel any less for Nicole. If anything now that she’s spoken her feelings out loud it gives them shape, and form, and confidence; and one early morning she gives them a name too, acknowledging that this swirl, this overpowering and comprehensive and almost tangible cluster of emotions must be love. And now that she’s admitted her feelings to Nicole, and admitted the true extent of them to herself, the love becomes something that just accompanies her wherever she goes, rather than being a weight that she carries.

To her profound relief it doesn’t seem to change things with Nicole. She is still there for her, and she for Nicole, and the closeness of their friendship seems to actually grow and deepen, now they have this shared secret between them too. They are a little more careful with each other, careful not to touch, not to sit too close. But Waverly sometimes still gets lost looking at Nicole, and when Nicole catches her, she doesn’t flinch, or pull back. She just tilts her head and smiles, a caring, warm smile that says _it's okay, I get it, and it's okay_.

Waverly falls more and more in love each time.

 

* * *

 

So it is that when the homestead is attacked, and Waverly hurt, with Willa back from the dead and pulling Wynonna away from her further by the day, it’s still Nicole that she calls. Nicole who comes and sits, and takes the uncalled for sniping from Willa in her stride, and then waits patiently for Waverly in the barn, waiting for when they can talk privately.

“I’m exhausted.”

“I can imagine.”

Nicole is stood a little distance away, as they’ve been careful to do these days. But she has been fighting her own private battle against feelings too, and _she_ hasn’t had the relief of sharing it with anyone. Of course she can’t talk to Waverly about it; but more than that, it is the first problem for a long long time she hasn’t been able to share with Chris either. And maybe she’s got a little weaker than she used to be, because she feels like she's not sure she's got strength enough for this fight.

Whatever the reason, the struggle to keep her distance, to stay strong for Waverly, for both of them, has taken it out of her. So much so that when she sees Waverly sat there, brave enough to admit the hurt from the bullet graze and her sister’s return and from just _everything,_  she simply can’t fight anymore, but walks over and sits right next to her.

This close she can see how drawn Waverly is, how careworn, and without thinking she reaches out, tucks a strand of hair behind Waverly’s ear. And as if she had nothing to do with the movement, she watches her hand linger there, and curl, and just caress the lightest touch down Waverly's jawline. She watches Waverly lean into that touch, her eyes fluttering shut, and her whole body bending almost instinctively towards Nicole.

Nicole drops her hand.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Waverly says in a faint voice. “It’s...nice, Nicole.”

They’re silent for a second, both reflecting privately on the understatement of that; before Waverly continues.

“I’m so glad we’re still friends. I know it can’t be easy for you, knowing I’ve got feelings for you like this. Thank you for not running. Thank you for still being here.”

“Of course, Waves. It doesn't change anything, okay? I’m still here for you. I... _shit._ ”

Willa stands across the barn, staring at them both, a calculating look poorly hidden with faux naivety. She speaks almost with relish.

“I’m interrupting something, aren’t I? I’m sorry.”

Waverly sits up straight. “No. You’re not interrupting. I was just talking to Nicole.”

“I can see that.” Willa says, and Nicole catches the undertone in her voice. She looks to Waverly, who gives her an almost imperceptible shake of the head. _Not now, Nicole. I’ll deal with this._

“I have to go. Call me later?” Nicole leaves Waverly facing Willa, who is triumphant.

“You said you had feelings for that lady police officer. I didn’t know you were a...a gay.”

“Neither did I.” said Waverly, levelly, waiting for Willa’s next move. When it comes, with a threat to Waverly, and another wedge between her and Wynonna’s fragile relationship, Waverly nods, and understands. It’s then that the seeds of doubt she had felt when her eldest sister had come back really put down roots, and start to grow.

 

* * *

 

A week later, they’ve flourished, and borne full fruit and thorns, such that she's moved to hide Peacemaker from Willa whilst all hell is breaking loose across the town; a terrible choice to have to make horribly vindicated when Willa starts to turn.

But she’s still shocked by the betrayal, when Willa shows her true colours at the station. It is awful enough between the three sisters; and then, who should walk in but Nicole.

Nicole walks in, and Waverly's heart cries out please, turn around, run, _leave._  But it's too late, Willa is pointing a gun at her, and Wynonna is looking half upset and half unsurprised that the universe will just _never_ give up throwing crap at the Earps, or give her a frickin’ break, and Willa is just _loving_ the fact that now she gets to humiliate Waverly into the bargain, she is relishing it.

“Give me the gun, or I punch a bunch of holes in the object of Waverly's unrequited lust.”

“Unrequited...what?” says Wynonna, a penny starting to drop as she sees the look of pure fear on her sister's face.

“No please!"

Willa counts down, and Waverly turns to Wynonna and _begs_.

" _Please_. I love her.”

It's said quietly so that Nicole won't hear, even if there’s a renegade part of Waverly that secretly hopes she does. She sees the conflict in her elder sister's face, the weight of yet another impossible decision on her shoulders: and then the moment where she sees simple compassion win.

So Wynonna passes over Peacemaker, and Waverly is weak with relief for just one glorious second, until Willa finds a deeper betrayal still, and squeezes a trigger.

And Waverly feels the shot like it's gone through her own heart, as she sees Nicole thrown back against the wall, and then fall down to the floor. Waverly is by her side, forgetting how she gets there, pain ripping air from her lungs as she bends over Nicole and turns her, not understanding what Wynonna is saying or doing until the shirt is ripped open, and the bullet proof vest is revealed, and she understands, Nicole is okay, and Waverly just  _buckles_ with relief, Nicole is safe and she's _okay_.

And she forgets their carefully studied distance, forgets it all as she bends and holds Nicole, caresses her face, looks into her eyes, shaking, and sees Nicole look back at her with a truth in hers nearly unveiled, but her cop instincts are still working, telling them what’s going on, what they need to know.

And Wynonna is looking at her sister with a new look, but there's no time to unpick that now, so Waverly just finds one of Nicole's hands, and in lieu of what she wants to do, what she needs to do so much, she kisses Nicole's hand so tenderly, closing her eyes and trying to put all her relief and love and care into just that gesture, and then Wynonna is pulling her up, and Nicole is lying there, assuring her she’ll be okay, and Chris will come for her; and Waverly knows that's true, and for the first time since she's known Nicole, she’s _grateful_ for that. Glad that Nicole has her rock, where the Earps are all chaos and shifting sand.

 

* * *

 

Outside, in the street, as Wynonna and Waverly hurry to the next scene of the crisis, they have one of the most important, toughest, but also simplest conversations of their sisterhood.

“Have I missed something there, Waves? With you and Nicole?”

Waverly wipes her eyes. “Nothing to miss. Oh, except that I'm probably gay, and I'm definitely in love with Nicole, and she's not with me. God, I can't believe Willa _shot_ her…”

Waverly is still so overcome with emotions from all that had just happened that she didn't think she had any room to worry about her elder sister's reaction to what amounted to a forced outting too. But nonetheless she steals a quick look at Wynonna, and sees nothing but concern for her little sister, and an acceptance so instant and transparent it was like there was nothing to be accepting at all. She realises then how much she did need that, and flashes a grateful look to her sister in return.

“Hey, it's okay." says Wynonna, reading her sister like she'd spoken out loud. "We can talk about this later, baby girl. But for now?”

“Right.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a gap in the canon before my next installment kicks in, and so a couple of days til my next update too. See you then.


	5. The Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Um. Well. You'll just have to read it, I ain't summarising it here!

A month later, and as always seemed to be the way in Purgatory, the routine and banality of daily life smoothed over and put out of mind the memory of the entire town having gone foaming-at-the-mouth crazy that night.

Nicole was over at the homestead. She had 'stopped by’, in other words driven all the way out an hour before her shift to drop off a DVD she and Chris had borrowed. Something that could probably have waited for the next time they'd seen each other at work, Waverly had thought.

But she wasn't complaining, as they fell as they so easily did into conversation, natural and flowing and easy. It was the week of the big homecoming game, and so Waverly had started to regale Nicole with some of Purgatory’s more regular small-town folklaw, explaining with some humour about the Blue Devils and why the class of ‘07 were such a big deal. Nicole had just stood there and listened, a soft and unselfconscious smile on her face, whilst Waverly happily chatted and joked, loving the fact that she could make Nicole laugh, just simply loving being in her company.

Waverly had explained there would be a parade that half the town came out to watch, and the high school marching band, and a performance by the cheerleading team. When she mentioned as an aside that she actually kind of missed cheerleading, Nicole had been half incredulous, half apparently tickled pink, with the widest grin splitting her face.

“ _You_ were a _cheerleader_?”

“Yup. _Head_ cheerleader, thank you very much.”

Nicole had chuckled and shook her head. “I don't believe it.”

“No?” Waverly got a wicked look in her eye. “Well, I’d better convince you then. Hold on a minute…”

She disappeared off into the kitchen for a second and came back holding two dish-towels in each hand, one blue and one white each, then fiddled with her phone and placed it on a shelf, setting off an upbeat sounding pop song, a little tinny through the small cellphone speakers.

She stood and faced Nicole, twirling the dish-towels, a mischievous and almost challenging glint in her eye as she sees Nicole catch a clue as to what is about to happen.

 

And then the rhythm fully kicks in, and Waverly starts to dance.

 

She is a little rusty, at first. The weight and balance of the towels is all wrong, and her outfit; a shirt tied at the front and a short skirt too tight for easy movement, don’t help. But then the muscle memory kicks in, and her body starts to flow, and Waverly remembers why she used to enjoy this so much.

She remembers the freeing physical joy of acting out the choreographed and stereotyped sexuality of the moves; but finds that as an adult now rather than as an eager-to-please teenager there's something more to those movements than just the pure rehearsed skill of her youth. There’s something more of Waverly herself, and her own sexuality, and she pours all of that into every pop of her hips and toss of her hair.

She realises halfway through the routine just how inappropriate this might be perceived to be. But cheers are supposed to be sexy, right? And when else is she ever going to get a better, and almost semi-legitimate chance to show Nicole this side of her?

Certainly with Nicole being the sole audience rather than a crowd full of leering sports fans, there's even more still to her movements. A lot more. An _awful_ lot more.

 

Waverly could never understand the vibe between Nicole and Chris. Their relationship was obviously steady, and loving, and they were frequently physically affectionate with each other; each quick to give the other little touches or kisses. Simple innocent moments that Waverly would quickly look away from, not wanting to intrude on them; not wanting the sharp stab of jealousy they caused her either.

But there never seem to be any _heat_  behind the touches. Never the sort of palpable sexual tension she could see between her sister and Dolls or Doc, for example.

Waverly didn't understand it. To her, Nicole seemed so alive in her physicality, so _there._  Her movements were precise but still easy with that, and she owned her height and her presence in the world with a confidence that almost bordered on a swagger.

And how on earth anyone could be in a relationship with all that, with her, and there not be heat, Waverly simply couldn't understand.

Maybe, she'd thought, maybe it was a lesbian thing. Certainly, on the more-than-her-fair-share of TV shows with lesbian pairings on she'd seen in her time it seemed to be a theme, with a lot of build up to couples getting together; and thereafter barely anything beyond sweet but sexless kisses, or storylines about babies and domesticity. Maybe that's just how it was, with women who loved women? They loved, but just weren't sexual beings in the same way?

Maybe Nicole just wasn't a sexual being?

  
_Her_ Nicole was. The Nicole that occupied her mind in quiet moments of the day, the one that she fought off thinking about; until last thing at night when she'd be too tired to fight anymore.

 _Her_ Nicole would use all her evident physicality, and channel it into desire, and would be there in her thoughts in the smallest hours of early morning, during her most unguarded moments. This Nicole would come to her in her mind, and kiss her, and pull her tight against her body, pull her with such desire and need it was almost rough, but tender too, her soft lips kissing Waverly's own, then kissing her body...

 

Waverly danced, and it was to this Nicole, for her Nicole, that she danced.

 

* * *

 

Nicole strode into Purgatory High School building with her head down, ignoring the crowd of people already buzzing around, ignoring her colleagues waving her down. She headed for the stairs and took them two at a time, arriving at the top, and turned into a deserted hallway.

She found the girls’ bathroom, and pushed in, registered it empty, good, took the last stall, slammed shut and locked the door, and leaned back against the cubicle wall, breathing heavily, her head falling back against the cheap laminate in frustration. Every part of her skin was on fire, and she was almost unbearably conscious of her own body and its physical presence and its _need._

She fumbled at her belts and then with the zipper on her khakis, making enough room to slide a hand down and inside, and then as she touched herself she closed her eyes, and the images she'd been trying to keep at bay on the drive over, of Waverly dancing for her, came back to her mind's eye, so clearly, so real she felt like she could almost reach out and touch them.

Her flowing hair, and her sparkling eyes, and her body, God, her _body_ , and the way she'd _moved_ , and the looks she'd thrown her, looks full of a raw sensuality she'd tried her hardest not to look for in Waverly, but the dance revealed it was there, _Jesus_ it was so clearly there, and Waverly was showing it all to her, saying to Nicole _here I am, this is who I am, look, see who I can be._

Nicole's breath grew unsteady as the pace of her hand’s movement picked up, and the scene played out in her mind until the end, and then Nicole couldn't help herself, couldn't stop herself continuing it the way she had so wanted to, and saw in her imagination her going to Waverly, and pulling her to her and kissing her, God, she'd kiss her so hard, and so deep, and then she'd not be able to stop her hands from roaming over Waverly's body, and Waverly would arch into her, and the heat between them would be too much, and Nicole would lift her up, and walk her through to the kitchen table, and put her down there, and Waverly would open her legs and Nicole would push her hips between them, and pull Waverly by the ass flush against her, and she'd be kissing her all the time, and her hands would be smoothing a burning course over her legs and her hips and her body, and Waverly would be kissing and touching her back, feverish, desperate, and then, and then, oh God, then she'd reach down between their bodies, and with one hand find her way inside Waverly's underwear, and she’d be wet, and ready, and she'd look into her eyes, she'd ask, and Waverly would nod a frantic assent, and she’d brace the other hand firmly around Waverly's lower back, and then, then, she'd take her fingers and push inside her, deep and hard and…

“Ahhhh!”

Despite being in public, despite being in uniform and on _duty_ , Nicole cries out when she comes, harder than she can remember coming in a long long time. For a second the feeling of release in the fantasy is so very good, and then the ghost of Waverly evaporates and she comes back to reality: and she's stood in a high school bathroom stall, one hand on the opposite wall holding her up as she tries to slow her breathing, and she similarly tries but fails to stop tears of frustration and shame at what she's just done rise, and then fall.

“Damnit!” She hits the stall wall with an open palmed slap, sees it shudder. Then, with the sting to her hand grounding her a little, says again, quieter, resigned. “God _dammit._ ”

 

* * *

  

She hadn't let herself do that, before. Respect for Waverly and their friendship, and respect for Chris, and their _marriage_ , for crying out loud. Despite wanting to, despite nearly starting to so many times on those long nights where she couldn't settle and sleep, she had been so so careful not to let herself do this.

But now that she had, it was too late.

She wanted Waverly. God, she wanted her so, _so_ much.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Ahem._  
>     
> Next update tomorrow, folks.


	6. Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mictian is expelled, and Nicole and Waverly finally confront their feelings for each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a bit of a note on why I've put the events at the end of this chapter where I have. 
> 
> I always felt like 2x05 was a turning point for the Wayhaught relationship. For all Nicole's sweet declaration in 2x02, I reckon it's only when she saw her own instinctive reaction in ‘live conditions’ as it were just how far she'd really go for Waverly; and I reckon she’d have been a little shaken by it. 
> 
> More speculatively, I wonder if this might also be the moment Waves really starts to believe the sincerity of Nicole's feelings for her. Before that, for all that she's clearly smitten, I've never been convinced she'd quite trusted Nicole felt the same way back. There is a solidity to their interactions after then, even with all the horrible crap they go through, which speaks of something changed.
> 
> Anyway, ymmv, but my head canon is that they would've had one _hell _of a moment after Mictian. I don't know exactly where or when in the show's timeline this would've happened, possibly during/after the kissin’ and huggin’ in 2x06?__
> 
>  
> 
> __  
> But in this story, it happens like this.  
> 

Nicole starts to struggle.

Her already disturbed sleep got worse, and night after night she’d lie sleepless next to Christine, until eventually she'd get up and move to the couch. Partly to stop her tossing and turning from disturbing Chris’s sleep, partly to try to lessen the guilt she felt lying next to her, thinking these unthinkable thoughts.

Because for the first time, she thinks, _what if?_

She has feelings for Waverly. That is abundantly clear. And Waverly has feelings for her. At least, she said she had at a point in time.

Nicole was sure she still did, if the look she'd got when she'd suggested a way to help with the doubts about her Earp heritage were anything to go by. When Nicole had given her the envelope full of application forms, Waverly had been shocked by the kindness, and obviously touched by it, and for a moment looked at Nicole so unguardedly loving, so affected by the moment that it took all of Nicole's strength to step back, and breathe, and tell Waverly she'd be waiting with her by her side as her friend when the news came through, and always.

She knew she shouldn't be making promises like that to Waverly. She had promised that devotion to Chris first, and she had truly meant it at the time, and deep down, she still meant it now. She had promised to be Chris’s family, and they _were_ each other’s family, and that was just the way it was.

 

* * *

 

Knowing that still didn't help with the nights, though.

Most nights she'd stay up, thoughts racing in impossible circles, until eventually, at four or five in the morning, with dawn’s light unthinkingly breaking in on her musings and her exhausted and heavy eyes finally starting to close, she’d return back to their bed for a couple of hour's sleep before having to get back up for work.

And she'd know that she's made the right decision, the only decision she could, as Chris would pull her into a sleepy hug, maybe kissing her head or her shoulder, and then falling back into soft snores and a trusting open hug.

 

* * *

 

Until, one morning, Nicole crept back into the room quietly, as was now her habit, and saw Chris awake, sitting up, her arms wrapped around legs pulled up close to her chest, and looking lost and a little scared.

Nicole got back into bed, gingerly.

“What's going on, Nicole. You need to tell me. We tell each other everything.”

“Nothing's going on. I'm sorry. I just can't sleep. You know I've not been sleeping very well…”

“I know.”

A beat.

“Are you having an affair?” Chris just comes right out with it.

“What? No! How can you ask me that?”

Nicole feels sick.

“Why do you think? You're not sleeping, Nic. And you're distant, and withdrawn, and we’ve not...we’ve barely had sex since we _moved_ here, Nicole. Why do you _think_ I'm asking you that?”

Nicole shook her head, unable to deny any of this. Some part of her knew what was coming next, and didn't know what the answer would be.

“Do you _want_ to be having an affair? With…her?”

Chris’s voice was small, but resolute. Like she was with everything, fixed first on finding out the truth, worrying about how they'd deal with it later.

“No. No, Chris, I don't want to be having an affair. I love you, and I promised to always be there for you. And...I will be. I mean it.”

Nicole learnt the truth of that statement at the same time as Christine did, when she said it, and they both heard in the sincerity of her voice that it was true.

They lay down, and held onto each other, desperately, awkwardly. Both silently reaffirming their genuinely meant vows.

Both wondering if that was going to be enough.

 

* * *

 

Some days mind, Nicole is almost relieved that she isn't in a position to move forward with Waverly.

She’s been _odd_ , lately. Sometimes herself, sweet and bubbly and full of Waverly positivity and fun, with that undertone of secret Earp depths that Waverly had started to trust Nicole enough to show; just from time to time.

But then sometimes she was different, harder somehow. She’d been sharp almost to the point of rudeness a couple of times, and out of character and reckless with her decisions with Black Badge; and it so didn't square with who Nicole thought Waverly was that Nicole was worried, almost a little frightened for her.

But, surely it was just the weight of the Earp curse and all that that meant? She would still be in the complex grieving period for a woman who she knew was her sister but who she didn't truly love or really miss. And Purgatory just didn't let up with its demons, murky disappearing government agencies, and who knows what else.

There was all that, and then there was the increasingly evident fact of their feelings for each other. Nicole understood that if Chris had guessed, Nicole's emotions might be starting to show to Waverly too.

Perhaps Waverly was deliberately putting distance between them, to protect herself, to protect both of them?

 

* * *

 

Whatever it was, the cruel hardness seemed to be catching.

 

Wynonna strolled into the police station one day, with a loose and louche physicality about her movements that Nicole assumed meant drink. They'd started a normal conversation, or at least as normal as conversations with Wynonna ever got. But then out of seemingly nowhere, Wynonna started attacking her.

“Waverly can't be just the friend you want her to be, Nicole.” Wynonna said, practically leering. “She’s _dying_ under the weight of this crush. _Poooor_ little sister stays up most every night crying over you, you know? With you stringing her along like you are. Waverly needs _space_.”

_Stringing her along? I'm not...am I?_

“You know Wynonna you're really mean when you drink before noon. And you drink before noon too often.”

Nicole left in a whirl of anger and confusion, rocked by Wynonna's sharp words which had unerringly found and opened up to daylight the worries that Nicole herself had started to have about her friendship with Waverly.

She worried that Wynonna was right, that she herself was making this whole situation worse. And then she worried about Waverly, whom she'd called earlier on with no answer.

Something felt odd, something felt _up_. And Nicole had had her cop instincts proved right enough times in the past that she felt justified in wanting to check on her. She just wanted to hear Waverly's voice, to know that she’s okay.

She agonised over what to do. She wanted to give her space, if that's what she needed.

But she wanted to know she was alright, too.

No. She needed to know she was alright.

 

* * *

 

Waverly swam in and out of consciousness, that final time Mictian had a hold of her.

She was reminded of when she was a little girl, alive with curiosity and trying to figure the whole world out, playing with a longwave radio. She’d twist the dial to find mostly static, and then sometimes a snatch of country music, then static, then a distant faint conversation in French, then static again, then suddenly she’d happen upon a loud clear channel.

It was pure static when she entered the barn. The first sight of Nicole was a flash of song, then she and the demon inside her wrestled for control of the dial, but it was too strong now, and the music was lost, and she couldn't get it back, the static roaring in her ears as the demon lied to Nicole, and abused her trust and devotion, then desultarily, flung her aside.

And then a frequency was found and Wynonna’s voice came through as if from a distance, telling her to _fight_. She managed to hold onto the channel long enough to tell Wynonna how she could do it for her, and then static crackled angrily as she and the demon she carried was thrown to the floor, and forced to drink the cure, until with a violent heave Mictian left her, and Wynonna pulled Peacemaker and sent it burning down to hell.

Waverly lay stunned, and now a clear, beautiful song had started to play, ringing out free of all distortion, because Nicole had recovered, and had crawled over to her, and gathered Waverly up in her arms, and had pulled her so so close, and was holding her in a way and looking at her in a way that made Waverly’s heart _pound._

She flashed back to the night Nicole had been shot, wondering why only for an instant before realising that it was because she could see the same emotions in Nicole's eyes as she remembers feeling herself that night. Relief, and still fear, the overwhelming feeling of life being a second away from taking her over the edge of a precipice from which she'd not return.

“I can't believe I ordered you to shoot her.”

“I almost did it, too. I think I would…” Nicole's voice grew thick. “I think I would shoot anyone for you.”

And Waverly saw more there then, recognised the way Nicole was looking at her now, recognised the desperation and need in that look.

The tears in her eyes and the look of absolute, unquestioning devotion, that Waverly had felt herself that night two months ago.

A look that meant love.

Waverly realised it with a rush, and then knew it was true, holy _crap_ , it was love. Forgetting for a second all that couldn't be, she put a hand to Nicole's cheek, half to comfort, and half to seek confirmation, and got it, as Nicole’s face first crumpled in emotion, then she turned her face in her hand, then Nicole gathered her shuddering breath, and closed her eyes, and leant down, and placed a long, sweet, lingering kiss to Waverly's forehead.

Wynonna stood quiet and let them have that moment, but then cleared her throat, shaking them from their private universe, to face the harsh realities of the world.

 

* * *

 

Inside the house, and the two Earp sisters, Doc, and Dolls went through the events of the day, debriefing and reassuring each other and themselves that the evil was over, at least for another day.

Nicole was stood outside on the porch of the homestead, watching the light fall from the sky as night gathered, and on the phone to Chris. She explained as carefully as she could that there was something peculiar going on at the Earp homestead again, and that she would really feel better if she could stick around with them for that night.

Chris could hear the genuine worry in her partner’s voice, and so she hadn’t argued. She knew Nicole regularly went above and beyond in her duties as a deputy, and if it wasn't that it would be just like her to be doing this as a loyal friend. Despite her worries and suspicions, Chris could hear that there was something genuinely the matter, and that Nicole wasn’t lying to her. Or, if there was something that Nicole wasn't telling her still, fundamentally, Christine did trust her wife.

When Nicole came back in she saw how tired and distant Waverly was looking, holding onto a half-drunk medicinal whiskey, hunched and withdrawn. Nicole looked at Wynonna, who nodded in agreement.

“Time to get you some rest, Wave.”

Waverly grumbled, but didn’t resist too hard, as Wynonna pulled her up, and then pushed her gently in the direction of the stairs to her room. Nicole stood awkwardly just inside the front door, not knowing her place in this, as Wynonna disappeared off to the kitchen.

Nicole nodded to the two men who sat watchful and quiet in the lounge, and they nodded back. All three understanding and content in their shared role of supporting cast to the Earp sisters’ drama.

When Wynonna came back she was holding another whiskey, which she pressed into Nicole’s hands.

“I meant what I said before. You're not needed to be my sister's keeper. But you are a friend. At least...and I think she could use a friend right now.”

Wynonna nods towards the stairs.

“So. C’mon.”

Nicole hesitates for just a second, but then follows her up.

When they reached Waverly’s room Wynonna gave a tap to the door, and when Waverly opened it she made no move to come inside, but gave her sister a brief but tight hug.

“Are you going to be okay, baby girl?”

“I'm fine, Wynonna, honestly. Are you not coming in, keep me company for a bit?”

Wynonna smiled softly at her. “Nope. I’ll just be downstairs though, okay? And so will the boys. But Nicole is here for you, that's right, Haught stuff?”

Nicole nodded, helplessly. Of course she was there for Waverly. She’d always be there for Waverly.

“Good.” Wynonna turned fully to Nicole and said in a quiet, serious voice, “Look after my sister, would you?” She shot a look at Waverly, and went on, “And, listen, it's none of my business, but at some stage you two are going to have to talk.”

 

* * *

  

They didn't talk. Not at first.

At first they just acted. Nicole just walked dumbly in the room after Waverly, who shut the door, and, without discussion, walked straight to her bed and got in, giving Nicole a searching look that she was sure she felt look right into her soul. And neither said a word as Nicole simply followed her and got into her bed too; still neither said anything as she opened her arms and Waverly folded herself in, neither spoke about what was happening as they lay down together, closer than they'd ever been, pressed into each other so there was nothing between them but the beat and ache of their hearts.

Neither spoke, as if if they didn't discuss it, it wasn’t really happening, it didn't count.

It didn't count as cheating if Nicole pressed her frightened and tender kisses only to Waverly's forehead, right?

It wasn't an affair if Waverly’s hands, holding tight to Nicole's body, only stroked and soothed up and down her back, nowhere else, nowhere that meant more?

They clung on to each other closely for a long while, soaking up the comfort they both so needed, until the shivering and shaking and emotion receded enough that, finally, they found the strength to talk.

Waverly pulled back a little, and looked into Nicole's eyes, her own full of regret.

“I hurt you, didn't I Nicole? When I...when it threw you - ?”

“No. Listen, that wasn't you, okay? And I'm alright, honestly it was just a knock. I'm made of tougher stuff.” She smiled, and knocked on her own head with a knuckle, and Waverly laughed, even as her eyes started to fill.

“Still, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I...it hurt you.” She went on, almost in a whisper. “I’m so sorry I didn't talk to you, before...” Waverly shook her head. Said guiltily. “I thought I was going crazy, Nicole.”

Nicole grimaced a rueful half smile herself. “I thought _I_ was going crazy. I mean, you were acting so...and I kept trying to tell myself that it was normal, that with everything with your sisters and, you know...us, you were just pulling back. But.”

Waverly tutted. Not cross, fondly if anything. And pushed a strand of hair back off Nicole's face, looking at her so tenderly. “You know me better than that, Nicole.”

“Yes.” Nicole answered, simply. There was no point denying it.

There was no point denying anything any more, Waverly thought. What was the point of continuing to hide something that was so obviously true?

She looked into Nicole's eyes. Without any hope, or expectation, or anything beyond the pure simple fact of it, she whispered.

“I love you, Nicole.”

And then her heart broke as for the second time that evening she saw Nicole’s face crumple, only this time she didn't even try to blink back the tears, Nicole just let them fall, as she looked back at Waverly and admitted in a gulping, defeated rush.

“I love you too. But I can’t...I'm so sorry, Waverly, but I just can't…”

“Hey, shh, don't cry Nicole, please don't cry. It's okay, I know, I know.”

It's Waverly's turn to place a kiss to Nicole's head, taking her hand and first caressing Nicole's face, then letting it slip and wrap round the back of Nicole’s neck, pulling Nicole down for another soft kiss to her brow, then letting their foreheads fall together, as she whispers softly, seriously.

“You need to be with someone who can keep you safe, and that means Chris, okay? I love you so so much Nicole, and I want you to have a long and happy life. Not to be fighting revenants every day and all the rest of this... _crap_ that comes with me.”

Hears Nicole sob, broken. “But I want you. None of that matters. I just want you.”

Waverly pulls her head further down against her chest, lets her hand run and tangle in Nicole's hair. Wraps her other arm tight around Nicole, trying to contain her shake and shudder.

“I know." she whispers. "I know. God, I want you so so much too, Nicole. But, you said that you promised her you'd always be her family, right?”

She feels Nicole nod against her.

“And...and, you meant it?”

A pause, but then another nod.

“Well then.” Waverly speaks lightly, like this is nothing. Like this isn't the hardest decision that either of them will ever have to take.

“That's that, then.”

Nicole gives one more great shuddering sob, and that starts Waverly off too. 

So they cry, in each other’s arms, grieving together for the end of a relationship that had never got the chance to even begin.

 

* * *

 

They eventually fall asleep. And, pressed against and wrapped around Waverly, Nicole sleeps the whole night through.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our poor, brave, noble babies.
> 
> In case the angst is getting too much for you, please be reassured that this is probably the hardest chapter for them. 
> 
> (Well, except for possibly chapter nine. And perhaps ten. And the next one certainly has its moments, actually now I think about it.)
> 
>  _Anyway_ , just to say it's not going to be all completely unrelentingly bleak for them. Happier stuff does come, I promise.


	7. Mistakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Episodes 2x08 through 2x10.
> 
> Mistakes are made. Maybe, maybe, understandable mistakes.

In the morning Nicole awakes, well rested, comfortable, relaxed; and as consciousness slowly seeps in, is surprised by how unsurprising this feels.

Because she's on her back, and Waverly is lying half on her, half against her, a head on her shoulder, an arm around her waist, breathing slow deep breaths in and out that Nicole can feel the movement of under the arm she’s got wrapped around Waverly. Nicole carefully places her free hand on Waverly's at her waist, and feels the fingers twitch a couple of times. Waverly must be dreaming.

It's so peaceful, and so beautiful. Nicole closes her eyes, and just lets herself experience the wonder of it.

 

* * *

 

They’re still resolute in the decision they'd taken together. But the way she'd felt, with Waverly sleeping, safe and completely trusting in her arms, overwhelms her. She feels so, so protective of her, and knows for all that they can never be together, she'll never be able to do anything but protect Waverly Earp.

And it's perhaps that, the fierceness of her determination to protect Waverly finding a misplaced outlet, that makes her open the DNA results. To protect her, she tells herself. How can I protect her from the contents if I don't know what they are?

And Waverly finds out, of course she does, and for the first time they fight, they really fight.

 

And it is _awful_.

 

* * *

 

Waverly tries her hardest to hate Nicole. To let her anger at her kill off this connection between them.

But it's no good. Even as she snaps at Nicole, even as they continue to fight, she knows that she is so upset only because the betrayal came from this person she loves so very much.

She tries another thing, by kissing Rosita. And whilst it helped her to pretty much resolve another question she'd had, finding she liked the soft kiss of another woman more than she remembers liking the scratch and testosterone of boys, she doesn't _feel_ anything. It doesn't feel even comparable to the whole-body rush she experiences when she and Nicole so much as brush  _hands_.

So, when Rosita pulls back and blurts out, “I'm with Doc”, though she knows she can't say the same, Waverly shrugs in resignation and admits, to herself as much as to Rosita.

“I'm Nicole's."

  
After their close shave with Tucker frickin’ Gardner, they go back to the bar, for a final nerve settling drink. Rosita is kind, and assures Waverly that she and Nicole will come through this somehow, and be friends again.

She so wants to go over to Nicole's, and apologise for the way she's been behaving. But what would Chris think, of her turning up at this time in the morning? So she's in her Jeep, driving back to the Homestead, when she gets the call.

“Waverly?”

It's Christine. She thinks she can hear sirens in the background of the call, and panic rises as Chris goes on, her voice a frightened rush.

“It's Nicole. She's been hurt. We’re on the way to her hospital. She’s really bad, Waverly. Will you come? She said you had to come, she said…”

Waverly had slowed and stopped her car, parked dead right in the middle of the road, uncaring for anything except what Chris was telling her.

“She said it was a widow? And that I had to tell you. What was she talking about?”

“Oh God. Oh God. Okay, I'm coming, we’ll be right there.”

“Please. She said she needs to see you. Please hurry.”

 

* * *

 

She greets Chris with a quick hug at the nurses station, seeing the panic in the slight woman’s eyes match her own, and nodding silent thanks as she leads Waverly to a room, stopping and gesturing for Waverly to go in, shaking her head when Waverly indicates they both should.

“No. I know you two have been fighting, she’ll want to see you alone.”

 

Waverly feels faint when she sees how bad Nicole looks, sweating and gasping for breath and writhing in pain.

“Waverly! It was a widow, I think, she looked like Mercedes but she couldn't be...she said the path leads to the law. And then she bit me. And it hurts, oh God it hurts...you've got to find Wynonna, and tell her, this could help you...”

“Shh, shh, don't think of that now, you just focus on getting better, okay?”

“I'm so sorry, Waverly. I made a _huge_ mistake with the DNA results - “

“No, that doesn't matter right now,  _I'm_ sorry…”

Waverly's hand is at her shoulder, touching and smoothing and trying to comfort her as best she can. Nicole is hit by a convulsion and cries out in pain, and then a doctor rushes in, and starts to give her something to put her under. Waverly sees Nicole start to fade, and just gazes at her in fear and love as she struggles to get out the words.

“I've never known anybody like you, Waverly. I'm so glad we've been friends...I’m so sorry we couldn't...but I'm so glad I knew you...'m so glad I loved you...” her voice weakens, and Waverly feels tears starting again as Nicole's eyes close, and her tense body relaxes as the drugs take a hold and pull her down into unconsciousness.

Not caring about anything any more except for the woman she loves, pale, hurt, and maybe slipping away right in front of her eyes; Waverly leans over, and as Nicole's eyes fall shut and her body stills, she places the softest, most loving kiss she can, for the first and likely the last time, to Nicole's lips.

 

* * *

 

Waverly calls her sister, and she, Dolls and Jeremy assemble, and plans are made, and put into action. Waverly finds Chris, who is frustrated, and confused; angry and upset and not understanding what on earth is going on, why her wife suddenly has this mysterious poisoning, or why this ragtag crew are suddenly rushing around after her.

And how can Waverly explain, when Nicole so clearly hasn't?

So she goes outside to try to clear her head. And it's there that the Widow dressed in Beth offers her the terrible choice.

 

* * *

 

Time passes, crawling by in the awful slowness and rush that is hospital time. And Nicole just gets sicker and sicker.

Waverly comes back from a run to the coffee machine, as much as for something to do as because either she or Christine actually want one, to find Chris outside of Nicole's room, sitting on the floor of the corridor, her legs pulled up, her arms around her knees; and a bleak look on her face.

Waverly sits down gingerly next to her, wordlessly passes her a cup.

“How’s she doing?”

“Not good. The doctors say...” Chris shakes her head, disbelieving. “They say nothing they try is working. They don't know what's happening with her."

Waverly just wants to curl up into a ball and cry. But she looks at Chris, and for a moment forgets her own fear and upset. She feels so so awful for her. She's spent so much time being jealous of Chris, but in this moment, she thinks a part of her loves her. Anyone that loves Nicole, anyone who Nicole loves, she loves a little too.

“And how are you doing, Chris?” Waverly asks tentatively, more than aware of the tricky dynamics of this situation.

“Not great, either. To be honest.”

There is a pained silence, and then Chris goes on in an odd voice. She’s angry, and bitter, but in a way resigned, and there is a hint of acceptance there that Waverly finds incredible, in this moment and in this situation.

“What have you done to her, Waverly? She’s barely been out of hospital since she met you and your sister. And...she used to be mine. Only mine. And now she’s not. We were everything to each other, and we never needed anyone else.”

She turns, fixes her gaze steadily on Waverly, who stares back at her, wide eyed and wordless at the breathtaking nerve it must take Chris to be having this of all conversations, at this of all possible times.

“And now she's dying, and it's _you_ she wants to see. The first thing she said to me when I found her was to call you. The last person she wanted to see before she went under was you.”

Chris is getting a little tearful, now. Waverly hates it, she's never seemed the type to get emotional, and for her to be at least partly the cause of it?

“It's not _fair,_  Waverly. Not after everything we've been through together.”

Waverly doesn't bother trying to deny what Chris is telling her. She won't do her that disservice. But she can say what she knows is still true, and she says it earnestly.

“But she's married to you, Chris. She made a promise, and I know she means to honour it. And she loves you, I know she does.”

Chris laughs, a short bitter bark of a laugh. “Yes. I know she loves me too. In her way. But.”

Chris stops, sighs. Runs a hand through her hair, then says with a hopeless shake of her head.

“She _really_ loves you, Waverly Earp.”

And then her tears take her over completely, and she puts a hand to her face, and, the strangest thing, Waverly puts an arm around her shoulders, and Chris leans into her, and they embrace, both taking comfort from the last person on earth they should be, but maybe the only other person who can understand the pain they were both in. The peculiar pain of being about to lose something that they knew neither of them completely had.

“I don't know what I’d do without her, Waverly. I can’t lose her. I just can’t.”

Waverly gets both meanings. And gives Chris one last squeeze.

“Okay. Well. Let's just make sure we keep her then.”

Waverly gets up, sets her face, focussing on the one thing she can do. And goes off to find Greta.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re off to AU Purgatory next. (I effin' _love_ the Purgatory AU episode.)
> 
> And you'll probably be relieved to learn it's a much-needed lighter chapter, finally.
> 
> Should be up tomorrow.


	8. Sheriff Haught

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sheriff Nicole Haught has quite the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a very very short, three scene mini update.

Sheriff Nicole Haught looks up at the picture of Nedley, frustrated and sad.

It had been the proudest day of her life when she'd pinned the Sheriff's badge on, but one of the saddest ones too. She missed Nedley’s guidance, and she missed him.

Still, she loved her new job, and damn if the town wasn't discovering that despite their initial reservations at a woman taking over, that she was good at it. She felt accepted, and vindicated, and like she'd found her right and proper place in the world.

And working at the police station, only a block away from Shorty’s, certainly had its other perks. She saw the time, and all dark thoughts evaporated clean away, as she smoothed her hair, and waited in nervous and happy anticipation for the highlight of her day.

The clock turned 12, and Waverly Gibson walked in.

Waverly walked in, bringing her lunch, but also sunshine and happiness with her. Nicole sat back, and let the familiar warmth Waverly's presence inspired wash over her. She caught the cute and shy wave, but just waited, in happy anticipation for Waverly to come over, and sit on her desk, and find an excuse, any excuse, so they could have their daily chat; the ritual of their daily flirt and banter.

She loved it. She loved Waverly, that much she knew, and she knew she should be more upset that Waverly was with somebody else.

But she wasn't. She felt oddly confident, and strangely unbothered by her upcoming nuptials to Perry Croft. I mean, she'd left him at the altar _twice_ , for Pete’s sake. And the way she flirted and smiled at Nicole, the way she found any excuse to touch her? Today she ostensibly was commenting on the wedding band from Nicole's ex-wife that she still wore for respectability’s sake, but then Waverly's fingers were trailing, lingering, reluctant to leave off the touch. That couldn't be nothing, right?

And, Jesus, the way Waverly _looked_ at her. Particularly the way she looked at her today, when Nicole practically laid it all out there for Waverly to see, if she wanted to, if she was ready.

“If it's right you don't think about the cliff because you're sure when you reach the edge you'll fly.”

The look Nicole got when she said that...she was _sure_ she wasn't misreading it.

Of course then stupid Lonnie butted in, and the moment was over. And Nicole always hated seeing Waverly turn and leave.

But underneath she was quietly confident. Her feelings for Waverly just seemed so right and so true, Nicole felt almost certain that one day Waverly would return that love; one day, when she is ready.

No, Nicole was content to simply love her, for now. It felt good. And, she noticed with a small flash of curiosity about the incongruity of the emotion; it felt like a _relief_. She was relieved for the freedom to just accept her feelings, and with open eyes, make the choice to just love Waverly, and love her unconditionally.

 

* * *

 

But it was undoubtedly a love that got her in some very peculiar situations.

Her jaw had dropped when she’d driven up to Shorty's and seen Waverly stood outside with blood on her hands, but for some unasked reason now in the most beautiful outfit Nicole thought she'd ever seen her in, a band of flowers around her hair and a long flowing white dress...hang on a moment, was that a _wedding_ dress?

She had been crying, so Nicole tried her absolute best to keep her thoughts and looks to herself as she ushered her into the car, and gave her wipes to clean up, and tissues for her eyes, and let her own steadiness calm Waverly, like it always did.

But, _damn_ , that dress.

It didn't help with Nicole's already way-past smitten feelings, or her concentration for that matter. So when Waverly tiptoes around the subject of Purgatory's stranger side, Nicole just outs and says what she’s thinking. And, internally grinning to herself at just how hopeless a case she is, goes ahead and blows past she doesn't know how many regulations in saying of course she’ll help Waverly out with her plan.

And then, boy does she blow way _way_ past any form of decorum and deniability in her flirting, as the beauty and sweetness and, c’mon, _hotness_ of Waverly in that dress short-circuits Nicole's brain, and she comes out with a line that is one hundred percent intent, and zero percent ambiguity.

“Oh, I’d do a lot of things to you.”

Waverly is sweet, in her own much more subtle way, offering Nicole a small encouraging truth of her own. But when they drive off, Nicole is still blushing furiously.

 

God, she so would though.

 

* * *

 

The day gets stranger and stranger. A visit to an honest to goodness witch, then breaking an inmate out of a mental health facility, and then dodging fists, burning tires and bullets, haring towards a barn to try and find a sports trophy for reasons she still can't quite get her head around. What on earth has Nicole got herself into?

She doesn't care. She knows ditching work and her duties is completely unacceptable behaviour. But she'd long ago given up thinking she had any self-control when it comes to the things Waverly asks her to do, so she just accepts it as the way things are, and just acts; and, honestly? She enjoys it. Her adrenaline is surging, and Waverly is trusting her life to her protection, and she feels every inch the badass wild west Sheriff she'd played at being when she was a little girl.

“Oh god. You're so cool, Haught.”

That didn't hurt either. Waverly seemingly getting closer and closer to something Nicole didn't yet dare name. Until she hears her on the phone to Perry, practically coming out for Nicole's benefit, and hell, if all bets aren't off then, when will they be?

So when Waverly finally asks for her support for the ultimate gamble, what else is she going to say but _I will_? And with Waverly standing there in a wedding dress, looking up at her so earnestly asking her to help this sister she'd never heard of, fragments of a Bible passage she'd stumbled upon when coming out to herself as a young teen, and then heard in marriage and commitment ceremonies since, flash through Nicole's mind.

_...Do not press me to turn back from following you...Your people will be my people..._

“Where you go, I go.” Nicole breathes.

She says it like a vow, and she can see Waverly hear it like one. Her eyes search Nicole's for a moment, finding the truth, and then Waverly moves, puts a hand up to Nicole and leans up to her and pulls, and their lips finally meet, in a kiss, in _the_ kiss, in the best and purest moment of Nicole's whole life, bar none, bar _none_.

Nicole's hands go to her like they were made for this, and she's pulling Waverly to her, gently but firmly holding her in the kiss, and she feels Waverly arch and press her body into Nicole's in response, and the feeling of that, of their bodies finally touching, and Waverly's soft lips kissing desperate and warm and smiling into her own is like some kind of heaven on earth; she shivers and burns and it was worth the wait, god it is worth _everything_ , as Nicole kisses her back with all her love, trying to condense all those months of hope and yearning and desire into this one, perfect kiss.

It's over too soon, the hollering and banging of revenants tearing them back to the urgency of the moment. Nicole chases the kiss as Waverly falls away from it but then sees her face, and it's okay, because she can see in her expression of absolute wonder and certainty and love that this is _it_. They'd found each other, and with that kiss they've joined each other, and now Nicole knew they would be each other’s, forever and in eternity, til the end of their days. And if that day was this day, that was okay; now that they were one, that would be just fine.

Sheriff Nicole Haught sandwiches Waverly and Jeremy's hands around the detonator, and _presses._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hands up who kinda wants me to just leave it, and them, there? :-/


	9. Separation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to the real world. And a couple of hard, hard conversations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the brief sojourn into a happier AU. This chapter and next are toughies again, I'm afraid. You might need tissues for this one; I've just made myself cry editing it, and _I_ knew what was coming *rolls eyes at self*
> 
> Note this chapter now takes us up to and beyond the end of Season 2, so we're officially off canon from this one on.

A rush of hot wind and a disorientating, dizzying feeling of falling, fading out, and then back in again: and they're back to their world.

Jeremy says something, but Waverly only has eyes for Nicole. She goes to her, places a hand to her, whispers you’re alright, and Nicole is looking back at her like the confused memory of where they've just been is the real world, and they’re each other’s still. The look of complete love and settled happiness on Nicole's face is so beautiful it nearly hurts.

Waverly softly smiles.

And she’s looking so closely at Nicole that when it happens, she can actually see it. The exact moment when reality fully sinks in; she can see in the flicker of an eyelid and then a flinch, and then can practically see the weight slam back down on Nicole’s shoulders, and suddenly she's not standing happy and uncomplicatedly in love anymore. She’s cowed, and frustrated, and defeated.

With that Waverly understands the etymology of heartbreak. Because when Nicole pulls back from her touch, wide-eyed and panicked and so, so sad, Waverly thinks she can feel her own heart break with a physical, almost audible, _crack_.

 

* * *

 

Nicole goes home to Christine. They talk.

“I’m not stupid, Nicole.”

“I know.”

“I know you've been pulling away from me. And I've tried to convince myself I don't know why, but I do. But we’re _married_. I'm your _wife_.”

Christine is not the begging sort. She's always taken the rough with the smooth in life, and faced hurdles with an equinability Nicole’s always admired. But in this moment for once in her life she's sounding scared. And that kills Nicole.

“I know.”

“Our marriage deserves a chance. _I_ deserve a chance. We can still make this work, okay? Please, Nic?”

“I know. You're right. And I want to, I honestly want to. Please believe me, Chrissie, please.”

She’s shaking, as Chris nods her head gravely.

“Okay. Good. But.” Chris sighs heavily, runs a hand through her hair. “I don't think you’d better see her. I don't want to be that person, but honestly? For a while, I don't think you'd better see her.”

“I know. I know.”

 

* * *

 

Nicole gives it a few days. Until the pain from having to hand over Alice will not be so raw, until she thinks she can manage to face Waverly without just pulling her into her arms and carrying her away from it all.

So she waits a few days, and then she calls, and they agree a time for her to come over to the homestead; Waverly knowing all the while what is coming, knowing what's about to be said without Nicole having to come out there to say it at all. But she comes, and they talk, for the first time they really properly talk about it.

 

"Do you remember anything, Nicole? From that other world?"

"Sort of. Not details. But the overall day, sure. And the overall...feeling of it."

"Yeah. Same. I just remember feeling how much I needed to get my sister back, you know? Even though I didn't know who she was at all. And I remember feeling so excited, about what was happening with...well. You know. How did it feel for you?"

Nicole laughed. "I enjoyed being the Sheriff! One day." Her rueful smile faded. "I don't know Waverly. It didn't feel like I was in the wrong place. It sort of felt..."

_Don't say it. Don't say it. Don't say that it felt right, because if that felt right then..._

"Yeah." Waverly stopped Nicole from having to complete that sentence. "It's weird how weird it didn't feel, right?"

Nicole was struck for the hundredth time how kind Waverly was, how caring to know how Nicole couldn't finish that thought, and how smart to think of a way to finish the sentence without saying the thing that neither of them could afford to be said.

Neither spoke for a moment.

"I've still got feelings for you. I guess that was made pretty clear, that day."

Waverly nods. That's one way of putting it, she thinks. Another might be that even the half-memory of that kiss was like a declaration of love Waverly thought she'd never hear the likes of again no matter how long she lived.

"But we're back here now, Waves. And she deserves my best efforts."

"I know she does. She's a really good person, Nicole, and I know she's done so much for you." Waverly's voice grew small, full of regret. "I never wanted to come between you. I'd never want to break up a happy marriage."

"Wave? Come on, listen, it's not your fault, okay? I don't know why it happened, it just. It just did."

Nicole sighed, frustrated. She kept on talking about their situation like that, like it was a thing that just was, not something that they could change. She _needed_ it to change.

"Neither of us blame you, okay? She doesn't even blame _me_ , I don't think. It's just one of those things. But I need to choose to do the right thing now. And the right thing to do is to...to try and work on my marriage. Can you understand that?"

"Of _course_ I can. You wouldn't be you if you didn't try to do the right thing by her. I wouldn't l- ...I admire you so much for that, Nicole."

Nicole nods, looks down at her hands. And now it's time for her voice to grow small, and it wavers a little, and Waverly thinks she's never felt hurt like she's feeling in her chest at this moment. Because it's coming, now.

"And, I'm sure we'll manage, but..."

"I know."

"What?"

"I know. It's okay. I get it."

Nicole raises her head, and looks searchingly into Waverly's eyes.

"We can't see each other, can we, Nicole."

Who drops her eyes again, and just shakes her head. Whispers "It's just too hard, right now. Maybe one day, maybe..."

"I know. It's okay. I understand, Nicole. It's okay."

Somehow, neither cries. It's like that's all they have done lately, and there are no tears in them left.

And in that moment, they both independently think that this is oddly the most like a couple they’ve ever felt. Communicating so openly about this toughest thing, talking their way through it, deciding together what they are going to do; and loving and supporting each other with their decision.

There's no big goodbye. They both know there's no good way to do this, and they need to just get on with it. So Nicole stands, and puts on her coat, and then a hand on the door.

“Good luck”, says Waverly.

“Thanks. You too.”

 _I love you_ , they both add in their heads.

And she leaves.

 

* * *

 

So when Bulshar rises, Nicole is no longer at their side.

During the weeks of fear, and planning, and skirmishes and battles between Bulshar’s followers and Wynonna's desperate, determined band of sisters and brothers, Nicole focusses on her job, and her marriage, and lets them get on with it all without her.

 

Waverly copes. She's an Earp, and life has never been kind to her, never been less than cruel in fact; so, yes, she copes. She's still there with her books and ideas for the fight. Her and Wynonna become closer than ever, both are grim and determined and, no longer caring about their own happiness, both of them with the best part of them ripped from them; both are more determined than ever to channel their pain and their energies into defeating this last great evil.

But Waverly is broken. And she doesn't even begin to heal.

 

* * *

 

Nicole tries, with Christine.

She still isn't sleeping well. But rather than get up in the night she stays in bed with Chris. And when sometimes she cries, she lets Chris comfort her, both more than aware of the terrible irony of that situation.

And it does get better, somehow. They still care about each other, and they've always got on, and Chris still makes Nicole laugh, and Nicole is courteous and considerate to a fault, and so they live their life as a pretty good facsimile of a couple.

But they still don't touch. Not like that. And for all that they've been pretty honest about this whole thing, neither of them can bring themselves to discuss this last problem; because they both know exactly what that means.

 

* * *

 

Nicole still sees Wynonna, in fact they get in the habit of going for drinks together every week.

It had started as a sort of informal route for sharing information between Black Badge and the police, outside the station where Nicole could drop her stringent police standards a little, and away from Dolls’ control-freakery. Nicole knew she couldn't be there in the fight, but still wanted to help in any way she could. And for Wynonna’s sake, well, she had always tended to the reckless but she knew the battles they were fighting were having larger and larger real world impact, and Nicole was proving herself a discrete and effective translator from the arcane fight against demons to the demands of the regular law enforcement world.

But they naturally talked about other things too, and found more and more that they were coming there as much for each other's company as for the work.

They were both surprised by how well they got on. They were so different, and spent half of most nights disagreeing vehemently about both serious matters of tactics, and trivial choices of beer and bar food. But they got on, enjoying the teasing banter of it all, and Wynonna finding the chance to talk and argue her point of view out loud a better way to think than the books and theory of Waverly, or stern logic and regulation of Dolls.

Their other obvious connection also hangs heavily in the shadow of their relationship. Because at some stage in every night, Nicole would ask.

“And how is…?”

She'd try to keep her voice light, but Wynonna would hear the pleading behind the words.

“She’s okay, Haught. She’s doing okay.”

 

Wynonna didn't ever tell Nicole about the end of these nights. She never told how when she’d get home to the homestead Waverly would be there, waiting, how she’d meet Wynonna at the door, anxiously twisting her hands together, and asking the same question, How is she, is she alright, how is she?

Wynonna would tell her Nicole is okay, and wait for the next question, and Waverly would stumble and stutter as she asks, And how is...how is…

And she'd start to look panicked, and lost, because there is no end to that question. Nicole isn't in Waverly's life in any meaningful way any more, and so she doesn't know what's going on with her, and so there’s nothing more to ask. And the tears would come again, and she'd start gulping down air, and panicking, panicking because of the realisation for the hundredth time that this was how it was now, she'd lost Nicole in every way, and might never get even her friendship back; and Wynonna would have to pull her into her best big sister hug, and it would take half an hour of comforting, and then a further hour or two of whiskeys at least, before Waverly would be calm enough to go to bed.

Wynonna was kind, and didn't tell Nicole any of this.

 

* * *

 

But one night she’s finally had enough.

“And how is…?”

“ _Waverly_.”

“What?”

“Say her name. Just say her name, Haught.”

“How is...how is...God. Okay. How is...Waverly?”

Wynonna hears the crack in Nicole's voice. And, sick of doing the right thing, lets truth slip out.

“She misses you, Nicole. We’re all doing the best we can by her, but she really, really misses you.”

She lets that hang in the air for a second, and then continues, quietly.

“Are you two sure you’re doing the right thing?”

Nicole was hunched, both hands wrapped around her beer, like that was all that she was holding onto to keep from drowning. She said nothing.

And if Wynonna hadn't been spending so much time with her lately, she might have missed the tiny shake of Nicole's head.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, yeah, I'm a horrible person.
> 
> I'm going to try to keep the momentum up from now on, and post a chapter a day til we're done. Don't want to keep our poor loves stewing in this state for any longer than I absolutely have to...


	10. The Final Showdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A final great fight, a tragic loss, and a reckoning.

Events run and rush forwards.

 

The Earp sisters and Black Badge have planned, and prepared, and have gotten to be near as damnit unbeatable; but Bulshar is wily and wise, and Purgatory is cruel, and so when it it sprung upon them one day, they’re not _quite_ ready.

There are skirmishes, and fights, and then a culmination in a final great battle, and they are on the point of defeat, and then all that is left is for fire and fury and a terrible, awful victory.

Because Dolls is lost. His final act to save them with the final ending of Bulshar, but in doing so sacrificing himself.

Bulshar is vanquished, the curse is finished: but Dolls is lost.

 

* * *

 

When Nicole asks Christine if she can attend the funeral, Chris looks at her with tight lips, knowing what that means. But she’s a reasonable woman, and can see the honest grief combining with the layers and layers of Nicole’s guilt at not being able to help more to drag her down. So she relents. Says neutrally, “Of course you can go. You don’t have to check that with me, babe.”

Nicole’s look says, yes, I did.

 

* * *

 

The service is beautiful. Sad, but as the universe delights in doing on occasions such as this, it’s a perversely beautiful sunny day. Besides which the funeral serves double purpose as a bookend to a long, hard chapter in all of their lives. Alice is back, and is as grumpy and moody and beautiful and charming as her parents, and it's hard for the mourners not to take their turn laughing and smiling at the new life in their midst, at the same time as grieving for their loss.

Wynonna is unashamedly in tears as she speaks at the service, but smiling too as she speaks of Dolls’ dedication and loyalty, his unflinching strength, and his pain-in-the-ass stubbornness too. Finally she turns to the casket and flat out tells him how pissed off she is that he did this amazing thing for her and them all, buying her a life that she thought she’d never be able to have at the cost of his own, and now he wouldn’t even get to see it.

“I love you, you stupid, beautiful man. Thank you, Deputy Marshall Xavier Dolls. I hope you’re up in lizard heaven somewhere. And I hope you’ve found your peace.”

 

Doc gives the final eulogy at the graveside. The main mourners are gathered on one side of the grave, with colleagues and the kind of townsfolk that came out for these affairs on the other. Nicole doesn’t presume, and so takes her place on that side.

And that means, of course, across the grave from Waverly.

 

They’d been conscious of each other’s presence at the service. Of course they had. But neither were there because of each other, both were occupied by thoughts of Dolls, and the fight, and everything they had come through. And if both could almost feel the presence of each other across the chapel, if both could hear each other’s voices in the murmured choruses of amens, neither looked.

But now they were stood mere feet apart directly opposite each other, and the grief was at its rawest, and they were at their weakest, and they couldn’t fight any more.

Nicole looks up to see Waverly staring at her. Gazing at her with her hazel eyes full of sorrow; so full of pain and and loss; but also with tenderness, with care, and with that love, goddamnit, still with that love, and it's all Nicole can do to stop from crying out. She can feel her own eyes lock on Waverly, looking over her tired face; her slender frame looking so fragile, but held up by that iron stubborn strength Nicole knew was inside.

And she was beautiful. The pain and strength and love and everything that is Waverly is just so beautiful to Nicole. She knows she must be looking love too, because it's all that Nicole is feeling, all that she is in that moment. First the eulogy, and then the whole world fades out, and it is only the two of them, speaking silently to each other, a private dialogue on love and loss in their grieving eyes.

The rough clatter of earth and stone on the top of the casket breaks the moment, and Nicole sees Waverly drop her head; and take a deep breath in, and when it comes back out again, it comes as a sob.

 

* * *

 

Waverly knew Nicole had come back to the homestead for the wake, but couldn't find her. Not that she wanted to admit she was looking. She’d so wanted to respect Nicole's need for distance; but Waverly had learned recently that love, which she had always thought was a pure and beautiful thing, had its selfish side.

She had been glad Nicole wasn't in the same danger as the rest of them, of course she was. But it seemed _wrong_ , somehow, that she hadn't been there. Waverly had been ready to die by Nicole's side in that other world; but she hadn't wanted to here. Not because she was afraid, she’d have gladly sacrificed herself in Dolls’ place if it had meant ending the curse for Alice. No, it was that it would’ve felt wrong to die not by her side. Wrong to leave Nicole without a chance to say a proper goodbye.

And here today, she just needed to see Nicole. She knew that was cruel, she knew she should be stronger. But she just couldn't. All her strength had gone, and all that was left was the need.

 

Wynonna saw her restless looks around the wake, and pulled her aside.

“If it's Haught you're looking for, she’s outside, round the back. She said she needed some time though. And I think you need to respect that, Wave.”

Waverly's eyes flashed anger. “She’s had two months.”

“I know. Just...she looks pretty upset, Waves.”

Wrong move. If Waverly needed to see her before, then the image Wynonna had put in her head, of a Nicole struggling to cope, sealed it. Wynonna saw the decision and shook her head, then impulsively pulled her sister in for a short, tight hug.

“Oh, baby girl. Okay then. Good luck. And don't tell me I didn't warn you.”

 

* * *

 

Waverly hurries outside before her nerve fails her, round the front of the house, then round the side, her stomach sick with nerves and worry. When she turns the final corner her heart leaps as she sees Nicole stood a little way back; but then registers how tense her body language is, sees her hands rammed in her pockets, and her eyes blinking up to the heavens.

Nicole must've caught the movement, because she startles, and then Waverly sees her change, sees something she'd never seen before in her.

She's angry.

More than that, she's angry _at Waverly_. Who sees her take a step forward, and then another, and then stop, her body held taught and her breathing fast as she points an accusatory finger at Waverly.

“You can’t do this. You can’t _do_ this, Waverly.”

“What? I can't come to the funeral of a friend I loved?”

“No! You can't come, and stand there, and _look_ at me. Not like that. I've tried so _hard_!”

“ _You’ve_ tried so hard? I don't care! I don't care anymore. I need you. I don't care that you don't need me, I don't care that you're getting past this, I'm _not_ , and I need you in my life. I _need_ you, Nicole.”

“ _She_ needs me! And she’s been so patient, and so understanding, and she’s always been there for me, and…”

Nicole is crying in between her words now, and she takes a step closer to Waverly still, and they're a foot away, and Nicole’s face is pure pain. “And she’s been everything to me. _Everything_. And she's...but she’s...she’s not _you_.”

Her voice had been loud and strident with hurt. But now it falls, to a hoarse, broken tone, as she repeats, “She’s not you.”

Waverly sees the moment as if in slow motion, as Nicole looks for a final time into each of her eyes in turn, desperate and searching, and the world seems to stop turning for a fraction of a second, because then, then, she closes the final distance between them, and drops an arm to Waverly's waist, and slips a hand around her neck, and pulls, and Waverly's leaning up, and Nicole kisses her, she kisses her, oh, Jesus, she’s _kissing_ her.

 

* * *

 

Waverly thought it would be fire. If it ever came to this.

But it wasn't: it was cool, clean, water. Waverly arches into the kiss, and her arms raise up Nicole’s shoulders and then snake around her neck, and she simply melts into Nicole. Their mouths and tongues moving smooth and liquid on each other's, and as the sounds of the world faded out and her whole body was taken over by shivering sensation Waverly felt as if Nicole was a beautiful still secluded lake that she had dived deep under the waters of; no, as if Waverly was the mountain stream that flowed into and fed her, as if with this kiss they were mingling, becoming one.

And for all the angry and passionate words that preceded it, this kiss was so _soft_. She could feel both of Nicole's hands at her waist now, firm, and the feel of their touch so amazingly sensual, but they were a gentle guide of her body into Nicole's, not an angry pull. And her own fingers moved soft and disbelieving at the nape of Nicole's neck, in her hair, at her shoulders, touching, feeling, whilst they kissed, and kissed; slow, deep, and complete.

For the second time that day the world faded completely away, and there was nothing but her, and Nicole, and their kiss.

And then she was wrenched back to reality as the sounds and bright light of reality broke violently back in, because Nicole was suddenly gone, and Waverly almost teetered and fell with the shock of it, and she opened the eyes that had been closed in unthinking bliss to see Nicole stumbling back, eyes wide in shock and a hand held to her lips.

 

* * *

 

Blood was rushing through Nicole's veins and roaring in her ears, and all she could think was what did you just do, what did you just _do?_

There had been a fraction of a moment when she might have stopped herself. But a traitorous voice in her head had told her that surely on this of all days they could be forgiven one kiss; that one kiss might be enough, one kiss might just be enough for both of them to keep and hold in their hearts whilst they worked to get past this.

She knew now one kiss with Waverly could never, _ever_ be enough. The feelings that had surged over her whole body, and heart, and, God, to her very soul. Feelings that took her over completely and let her know that in that moment she was finally complete. She knew now that there was absolutely no way she could turn her back on this.

Just as there was absolutely no way she could break her promises to Chris, made, and re-affirmed, and then promised again.

She felt dizzy, and desperate, and couldn't get enough air in her lungs, and she barely felt the impact as she sunk to her knees in the dirt, didn't notice the tears starting again at all, didn’t move to stop them rolling down her face, and she saw and felt nothing at all but the pure, awful impossibility of it.

She closed her eyes, and then felt a presence, and then soft hands rest on hers on her legs, and Waverly's quiet and worried tone.

“Nicole?”

The touch lifted, and then it was at her face, Waverly’s hands stroking and caressing away the tears.

“Shh, Nicole, just take a minute, okay?”

“I don't know what to do. I can't...I don't know what to _do_.” She finally opened her eyes, and the sight of Waverly looking back at her, face lined with care, and so, so close just made it worse. “Please, Waverly, tell me what to do?”

Waverly looked deep and serious into Nicole's helpless eyes for a long, long moment.

“Okay, Nicole. I've got this, my love. I've got you.”

She leaned, and placed one more loving, lingering kiss to one of Nicole’s wet cheeks, and then she was standing, and walking quickly away, and Nicole was left, alone in the dirt and dust of her heartbreak.

 

* * *

 

Nicole eventually gathered herself, and went home, numb.

When she got in Chris saw her expression, and her own changed, and she just nodded, almost as if a weight had been lifted. She didn't ask Nicole anything, just helped her off with her jacket, squeezed a hand once, and went to get her a beer.

Night comes. Nicole doesn’t move to come to bed; and Chris doesn’t ask her to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. Deep breath. 
> 
> I need to apologise for not tagging this fic with the major character death tag. I'm kinda allergic to tags like that as it always feels far too spoiler-y for me - I spend my whole time reading the fic wondering who, and when, and how, and find it hugely distracting from following the story. That said, I would've done if it were any of the four main speaking parts, as it were, but I reckoned I could just about get away with not doing so for the others here as they barely feature, so hopefully you're less attached to these versions of the characters in this fic, even if you are to them in the show. 
> 
> But I appreciate that's very much a judgement call, so if I've upset anyone, I'm really genuinely sorry. Please do yell at me in comments so I can apologise in person.
> 
> I'm also sorry it had to be Dolls. He's really grown on me, and I feel horrible about killing him off. It needed to be someone close enough that it would be a huge deal for Waves and Nicole; and whilst Doc was the other obvious candidate, there's a scene later on that wouldn't work coloured by the particular sadness that would bring. 
> 
> So. I'm sorry Dolls, RIP. Crappy I killed you off for some other characters’ plot development - but then to be fair us lesbians have been getting that for years...
> 
> Congratulations if you've made it this far in this total bummer of a fic. We start getting some much needed resolution from next chapter onwards. Not gonna tell you how it goes, but I should be updating tomorrow, so not long to wait...


	11. Leaving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes all that's left to do is leave.

In the morning Nicole wakes up stiff and uncomfortable on the couch, the sharp pain in her back an almost welcome highlight in the otherwise bleak flat landscape of her emotional numbness. She sat up, rubbed her eyes once, got up, made coffee for her and Chris. Showered, put on her uniform, went to work; going through the motions, moving through her day like an automaton.

 

* * *

 

When she got home she barely registered the taxi idling outside.

But when she steps indoors, and sees the lounge oddly empty, patches of dust around empty spaces on shelves and the sideboard, and Chris sat on their couch, shoes on and a heavy rucksack next to her, she begins to understand.

“What’s going on?”

“I'm leaving you.” Chris is blunt, to the point as ever, but her voice isn't unkind.

“What? What’s going... _what_?”

“In my defense,” Chris carries on dryly, “you've been leaving me for months.”

Nicole just stares at her, completely lost for words.

Chris stands, sighs. “Look. I love you, Nicole. And I love that you tried. I could see that you tried so hard. But it's just no good, is it?”

Nicole doesn't mean to, but her head shakes, as if by itself.

“And I realised yesterday, you've never looked that distraught over me. You've never even looked as happy around me as you do around her. I've seen you two together, Nic. You practically glow.”

Again, there's nothing here Nicole can argue with. Chris’s voice is matter of fact, with an incredible lack of bitterness; but there is a hint of a look to her like she's waiting for any final sign from Nicole that she's mistaken. Finding none, she just shrugs her shoulders in final acceptance.

“You just don't love me the way you love her. And.”

Chris takes a step forward, and places both hands on Nicole's shoulders. “This is an awful thing to say, Nicole, but I've been realising that maybe I've never loved you the way she does, either.”

The hands drop, and for the first time in the conversation a little upset creeps into her tone. “I mean, I love you. I do. But I don't think it's the same. And you deserve to be happy, Nicole. _I_ deserve to be happy. And I don't know if we stayed together if either of us ever would be. I'm not going to be the reason you end up bitter and resenting us, okay?”

Nicole is dumbfounded, and hasn't been able to find a single thing to say in response to any of this. But she finally manages to speak, voice more confused than upset.

“But...I tried. And I wasn't expecting this, Chris. You don't have to do this, we can try again, we can - “

“No. This is it, babe. I'm sorry but I need to do this. For _both_ of us. 'Cause, you know, I've been doing a lot of thinking about you two, and wondering. What if my Waverly's out there, somewhere, and I never find her because I've got you?” She smiles through the first sign of tears. “You’re still my family, Nic. And I'm still yours. You'll always be my family. But I don't think you should be my wife anymore.”

 

Nicole looks at Chris, still shocked, but with a slowly dawning thankfulness in her heart. A thankfulness for Christine. For the life-changing part she'd played in her history, for being by her side all those hard years, for helping her carry burdens she could never have managed on her own.

And for now, for taking this huge and incredibly generous decision for both of them.

Nicole suddenly realises, but instinctively understands now is not the time to say, that maybe that's it. Maybe she and Chris had just been so thankful for each other’s steady presence in each other’s life, and they'd both confused that with love?

“Are you okay, Chris? Are you going to be okay?”

Chris laughs, fondly. “And here I thought you might actually think of yourself for a second there. You're such a beautiful soul, Nicole.”

Nicole shrugs a little bashfully, allowing the compliment to stand. “Are you?”

“Yes. I think I've done our grieving for us already, Nic. It's been months.”

Nicole shakes her head a little. Not so much hurt as thrown off balance. “But I haven't...”

“No? What were all those nights?" Chris says, for the first time a little sharp. Then she goes on, in a softer, final tone. "Anyway, with respect. That's not really my problem anymore, Nicole. Now. Come here. I love you, you know.”

Chris gathers Nicole into a brief, tight hug.

"I love you too."

Nicole whispers this, and it's true, in its own way. She closes her eyes and squeezes Chris hard in the hug, but she feels, and can feel Chris register, that difference there. There's nothing in this contact to compare, and so there's nothing that's going to reverse this decision.

Chris steps back, and actually manages a shaky smile.

“Goodbye Nicole. Only for now though, okay? We'll be friends again, one day? I’ll, ah. I'll send someone for the boxes.”

And just like that, with her final show of pragmatism, she leaves.

 

* * *

 

Nicole doesn't do anything that night. She wants to, she wants to go straight to Waverly and tell her what’s happened, that she's _free_.

But even saying those words in her head feels incredibly rude and disrespectful to Chris. So she gives it a night. One night to respect and say goodbye to her marriage.

 

* * *

 

She wakes up the next day before her alarm, and is ashamed of herself how excited she feels. But Chris had been right. There was no use fighting this.

She showers, and dresses carefully in one of her good shirts, and despite the butterflies currently holding a party in her stomach, she makes sure she eats, and it’s _still_ only seven in the morning, and so she sits staring at her phone trying to decide if it’s too early to phone, or if she’s to text, how on _earth_ she can begin to put it into writing.

A knock on the door pulls her out of her reverie. No, surely not?

 

Close. It’s Wynonna.

“Wynonna? What’s wrong?”

Wynonna’s face is a little grim as she pushes past Nicole, and starts to speak.

“Nicole, I need to - hang on. What’s this?” Wynonna gestures at the half empty shelves, and boxes underneath.

“Chris left me.” Nicole shrugs, embarrassed at how easily she says it.

“For real?! Oh, _fuck!_  Fuck fuckity _fucksticks!_  Right, sorry I was going to prepare you for this, but there’s no time. Read this.” She shoves an envelope into Nicole’s hands, addressed simply to _Nicole,_  who stares at it blankly.

“Come on Haught, get with the programme!”

Bewildered and at Wynonna’s urging she opens the envelope and pulls out a handwritten letter, seeing the name at the bottom as she does so, and her heart leaps and thuds.

 

_Dear Nicole,_

_This is goodbye. I’m sorry for doing it like this, but I think it’s for the best._

Nicole looks up into Wynonna’s eyes, suddenly panicked and understanding Wynonna’s urgency.

“Come on, you can read the rest in the truck.”

“Shit. Okay. Where are we going?”

“Bus station. I just dropped her off. She asked me to wait until tomorrow before I gave it to you, but,” Wynonna grins a broad grin as Nicole just grabs her keys and they hurry out of the door. “I’m not sure my baby sister always knows exactly what’s best for her.”

They get in the truck, and as Wynonna pulls away with a squeal of tyres, Nicole reads.

 

_By the time you get this I’ll be gone. It doesn’t matter where to, just gone. I thought we could do it, Nicole, I honestly thought if we just kept our distance it would be enough, we could get over it. And that then maybe one day we could be friends again._

_But it wasn't enough, was it? I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I couldn’t stop loving you._

_I’m so so sorry for what happened at the funeral. I never meant to hurt you. I _ _hated_ _seeing_ _you so upset, and I never ever want to hurt you like that again._

_So. You asked me what to do, and so here it is, I’m making it easy for you._

_Forget about me_ _. Get on with your life, and forget you ever met me._

_I’ll be okay. I’ve always wanted to travel, and with the curse finished, I finally can. And though I think loving you is the best thing I’ve ever done, and I don’t regret it for one moment, I think eventually it would kill me._

_I don’t know how, but I know I need to try to find a way to stop loving you. Maybe I can find it out here, in the world outside Purgatory._

_Please can I ask one thing of you? I know I don’t deserve to ask, but it’s not for me. Will you keep an eye on Wynonna? I had wanted to help her now that Alice is back._

_She will be okay without me. She owes me a disappearance or two, anyhow. But will you watch out for them both?_

_I’m so sorry, Nicole._

_I’m going to try to stop loving you; but I will_ _never_ _forget you._

_Waverly_

 

Nicole stared blankly through the page for the minute, scarcely knowing what to feel. They ride in silence for a minute, and then Wynonna reaches over to Nicole and gives her knee a quick squeeze, an awkward pat.

“You okay there, Haught?"

Nicole stares out the windshield. Says in a disbelieving tone of voice, as if the words themselves didn't make any sense, let alone the concept.

"She said I should _forget_  about her."

"Ooh, ouch. That's _cold_ , baby girl." Wynonna says under her breath, sounding almost as impressed at Waverly's bravery as she is pissed at her cluelessness.

There is a silence, and then Wynonna speaks.

"Thing you have to understand about my idiot little sister." Wynonna starts in a laconic drawl, but then cuts herself off, and goes on in a more serious tone. Quieter, as if she doesn't want anyone else to hear her being so honest.

"Our mamma genuinely loved her. But she still left. Daddy was...more complicated. He left both of us for the bottle, and for training up Willa, even before he was gone-gone. And then I."

A sigh.

"I never forgot about her, Haught. But I don't know if she knows that. So you can maybe cut her some slack? She probably genuinely thinks that what she's asking of you is possible."

Nicole shakes her head, but gets it. And then gets why Wynonna is here, what she was doing at her door at a very un-Wynonna seven in the morning, and what she's doing now, careering around corners and speeding through junctions, on a mission.

It's her turn to reach over, and give her own awkward touch to Wynonna's shoulder, in acknowledgement and thanks.

Wynonna just raises her eyebrows ruefully.

“I told her to wait. But you know what my sister is like when she gets an idea in her head.”

“Yeah. Shit. What time is her bus?

Wynonna grimaces. “7.25.”

It's past 7.20, and Nicole straight up boggles at Wynonna.

“Well, come on then, drive!”

Wynonna lets out a loud, joyful laugh, the heart-to-heart evidently over, and increases her speed from the merely illegal, through to dangerously reckless; tearing through the streets of Purgatory.

 

* * *

 

They arrive at the bus station in a screech of brakes, Nicole opening the truck door and jumping out before the vehicle has fully stopped, stumbling then righting the momentum into a run.

She sees a bored looking young guy in a hi vis jacket, and putting on her best authoritarian Officer of The Law voice asks, breathless, “The 7.25?” 

“Left at 7.25.”

“ _Fuck_! Okay. Is there a way you can get them to stop?”

The man looks at her, incredulous.

“It's, ah, Sheriff’s Department business?”

The man shrugs. “I can call the driver. But I need to clear it with my supervisor first.”

Wynonna had caught up by now, and grabs Nicole's arm. “We haven't got time to do this by the book, Haught-stuff. Come on, they've only been gone five minutes.”

 

* * *

 

Wynonna and Nicole speed past the Now Leaving Purgatory sign as if the hordes of hell were after them. Nicole was on the phone, getting answer phone after answer phone on Waverly's cell.

“Come on, come on, _pick up_ Waves, please pick up.”

“Hi, this is Waverly, leave a message!”

“Damn! Okay. Waves? I hope you listen to this. Something's happened, and I need to talk to you. I need to...we’re on our way, I mean me and Wynonna are on our way, but. _Shit_. Look, I can’t explain to your answer phone okay? Just - just get off the bus, Waverly. _Please_.”

She hangs up, to Wynonna giggling under her breath.

“And here I thought you were so cool and composed, Haught.”

“ _Not_ the time, Wynonna.”

Nicole’s leaning forward anxiously as if with that she can make them go faster, leg dancing with nerves, when she thinks she sees a cloud of dust up ahead. She turns and grins at Wynonna who catches the mood, lifts her head and whoops.

 

Another minute and they’re caught up, then there is a dangerous dance of pulling up alongside the speeding bus, Nicole hanging half out the window and gesturing to the bus driver, trying to mime a badge but in her civilian gear having absolutely no impact. Eventually she just drops back inside the truck.

“Floor it.”

“Yes Officer Ma’am.”

They pull in front and far down the road in front of the bus, then Wynonna signals their intent by moving smack bang to the centre of the road and tapping the breaks. Nicole’s staring back and the driver doesn’t seem to get it, the bus's loud horn sounding but not seeming to cut its pace.

Wynonna risks turning in her seat to look back herself.

“Ah, _fuck it_.” She hits the brakes, and the truck starts careering and sliding to a halt, Wynonna eventually pulling it in almost a handbrake turn parked fully sideways across the road. They both hear the bus horn sounding again and again frantically, and then the driver must just lean on it because the sound of the horn combines with the squeal of brakes struggling to slow the bus, and both Wynonna and Nicole realise almost too late that it’s going to be touch and go, and scramble out of the truck, as the bus shudders and slows and kicks up dust and just, _just_ pulls to a stop before hitting the truck.

Hydraulics hiss as the bus door opens and the driver, short, bald, and _fuming_ approaches the two women, who despite themselves are standing in the middle of the road, both giggling with adrenaline and relief that their idiot move had come off. He is shouting, what the _hell_ are you doing, you nearly killed yourselves, not to mention a bus full of people...Wynonna sees another figure step out the bus exit, and grins as she gladly takes on the wicked challenge of drawing and exacerbating his rage, pushing Nicole to one side of the road so she can be kept out of the confrontation, and have the smallest modicum of privacy for what she was sure was about to happen.

Waverly walks towards Nicole, shaking her head in pure astonishment, looking like she couldn’t work out if she was more confused at what was going on, worried that it was something bad, happy to see Nicole, or pissed that she and her sister had seemingly risked their lives and that of half the bus for...for what?

“ _What_ is going _on_ , Nicole?”

Nicole has just been standing there, beaming at Waverly, taking her in, loving every part of her, whirlwind of crossness and confusion and all. On hearing those words, she takes a deep breath, suddenly shaking, and feeling butterflies in her stomach again. _It’s here. It’s finally here_.

“Chris left me.”

She says it simply, still smiling, trying not to, but can’t stop herself, not least at the look of shock and disbelief starting to dawn across Waverly’s face.

“God, why am I smiling? It's awful, I know I should be upset, but she said I’d been leaving her for months, and, well she was right, and...”

Nicole takes a step towards Waverly, and suddenly realises the importance of this moment. Her voice drops a little, and becomes more emotional.

“She was right, Waverly. I’ve not been hers for a long time. Not since I first met you. I’ve been...well I think you know. You must surely know. And I’m so sorry it’s taken so long, and I’m so sorry I couldn’t be the one who was brave enough to call it, but.”

Waverly is standing there, mouth a little open with astonishment, but the shake of her head slowing gradually, as if her brain is, very slowly, catching up to what her ears are hearing.

Nicole swallows, and takes the final step, and they are standing close, so close. Nicole leans down and takes Waverly’s hands into her own.

“If you still want me, I’m yours.”

Waverly looks up at Nicole with a look of loving affection combined with exasperation that is so very Waverly that Nicole’s heart aches at the idea that she nearly had missed seeing this look ever again. And then Waverly's expression softens, and she murmurs,

“If I still want you?”

Waverly smiles as she shakes her head one more time, and then slips her hands out of Nicole’s, slides them up her arms, and rests them on her shoulders. Looks seriously into Nicole’s eyes, and whispers.

“You idiot.”

And then she leans up on tiptoes, and it’s Nicole’s turn to stand there dumbstruck, as Waverly closes her eyes and presses the softest, sweetest kiss to her lips.

It lasts just a moment, just a gentle press of their lips to each other, a prayer of thanks and a confirmation of everything their hearts already knew, as their bodies are flooded with the shiver and shock of it, and then Waverly falls back a fraction, wanting to look in Nicole’s eyes.

What she sees there weakens her. Just, _devotion._  And a wonder, and a simple happiness that she’s not sure she’s ever seen, maybe not since that very first day they met; maybe not even then.

Nicole leans her head down, and they don’t kiss yet, but their heads and noses brush, and Waverly hears the air leave her lungs with an audible exhale at the wonderful intimacy of it, and she registers Nicole’s hands sliding up round her hips and cradling the small of her back, and she’s leaning into Nicole, and her face is tilting up, and still they don’t kiss, and she needs it so much, but doesn’t want to rush this moment, this beautiful moment, so she just slips one hand round the back of Nicole’s neck, into her hair, and just gently curls her fingertips, waiting, waiting.

Until Nicole turns her head the final fraction, and their lips meet again, and it is _everything_.

 

This time, this time they can kiss. It’s not a deathbed goodbye. It’s not a hurried joining before fire and brimstone and a terrible remembering, it’s not grief and sadness and desperation and something they just can’t help, now they’re _choosing_ it, and they are living it, and it’s a kiss with a future, and they _can_ kiss, and so they do, they kiss and kiss and kiss until their breaths are short, and their hands start to wander and pull, and they forget where they are, and neither notice the bag that's thrown at their feet, or Wynonna picking it back up, or the cloud of dust that blows up around them when the bus pulls off, or Wynonna manoeuvering the truck to face back down the road to Purgatory, they just kiss, until their breath becomes ragged, and their touches grow heavy, and they just can't press their bodies close enough to each other. Until there is a sudden shout of the truck’s horn, and they break apart, dizzy.

Wynonna is leaning half out the window of the truck, the other hand on the horn, with the biggest shit-eating grin on her face that either think they’ve ever seen.

“ _Officer_ Haught if you don’t want me to call you in on a public indecency charge you’ll get your hands off my sister and your ass back in this truck!”

She sits herself back in and doesn’t wait for an answer before starting the engine, whilst Waverly and Nicole, wearing identical expressions of flushed guilty happy breathlessness, walk towards the truck, holding hands, like this is how they’ve walked everywhere for years.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My babies :) :) :)
> 
> Of *course* I was going to get them together, eventually. But, and this is perhaps mean, but I kinda hope you doubted it for a while there?
> 
> Thanks for this go to good ol' Chris. She's the hero of this story, really. I think this is the only way this dilemma could've been resolved; if not for her, I reckon our poor babies would've just carried on doing the noble thing, and tearing themselves apart in the process
> 
> I have to say I've been really surprised/impressed by how many pro-Chris comments this story has got. Earpers really are the nicest folk out there, that even this obstacle to what we all want gets so much love. 
> 
> And I hope you think her actions in this story are plausible - first for fighting to hold onto Nicole, cos, well, it's Nicole, you would wouldn't you? But then for ultimately recognising the limits of that, and for caring for her enough to let her go.
> 
> Anyway, if you've made it this far through all the angst, CONGRATULATIONS. I'm now happy to spoil that it's all good from here on in. Hope it's worth the wait.


	12. The Homestead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waverly and Nicole finally have time and space to connect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, this chapter is basically just two thousand words of smut. That is, smut with high emotion, because that’s kinda the realm where this whole story has lived, but, yeah. There’s a lot of the kissin’.
> 
> I feel weirdly out of line doing this. It's been such a full-on story, and I've delved so far inside their emotions, I feel it's kinda inappropriate to be peeking into their bedroom too, and I should sorta just let them get on with it in private. But, well, it's written now, so I may as well post it...Y’all should probably be advised that there is also a scene in there which, well, I’ve tried to write it so it’s open to interpretation, and nothing’s spelt out, but there's certainly a reading which is hella mature.
> 
> Anyway. Point is, if you’re here for romance more than sex, or reading about this sort of stuff between these two makes you uncomfortable (and I totally don’t blame you if that’s the case, it’s not for everyone), then please be reassured that this chapter is entirely plot-what-plot so is completely skippable. I’d suggest you give it a miss til the next few chapters, up from tomorrow, which will be much more of a fluff fest, and pick up the actual themes and story of the fic again.

On the drive back to the homestead, Wynonna can’t help sneaking glances in the rearview mirror at Waverly and Nicole.

It’s more than a little odd, in fact it’s perhaps pretty wrong, thinks Wynonna, to be spying on your own sister this way. But she can’t help it: because she’s never seen anything like it before in her life. Like if some great artist painted the fairytale idea of love, this is what they’d paint.

Nicole was sat at one end of the bench seat, turned slightly and her arms open to accommodate Waverly, who was leaning fully into her, both hands holding onto Nicole’s shirt between them as if she was afraid if she let go Nicole would somehow disappear. They were alternating between lingering, slow kisses, and pulling back to look into each other’s eyes, a silent communication that spoke for months and months of the unsaid.

Nicole looked relaxed, and centred, and just so _herself_ in a way that Wynonna doesn’t remember seeing for a long time. Maybe not since when they’d first met, and Nicole had been all attitude and energy and optimism for the righteousness of her place in the small town; before the unreal reality of life in Purgatory, and all the weight of everything with Waverly, had started to pull her shoulders down.

And as for Waverly? She just _shone._  Wynonna thought that she could practically see her lit up, with love and happiness and a touching disbelief that Nicole was here, and real, and _hers_.

Shaking her head, Wynonna returned her eyes to the road, and drove.

 

* * *

 

When they arrive at the homestead, Wynonna ushers them out of the truck, and then moves to get back in herself.

“Are you not coming in?” Waverly asks.

“Nope!” That grin is there again, and as she goes on she drops a quick wink to her sister. “You two need to, ah, _talk_. Anyway, I left Alice with Doc. He’s probably already shown her the basics of gun handling and is onto the the concealed underhand draw by now…”

Waverly and Nicole watch the truck drive off, holding hands again, sheepish, nervous, and excited. When the truck is out of sight, and they get inside, suddenly both of them are shy. They’ve both dreamed of a moment like this for so long, but now that it is finally here, neither know exactly what to do.

“So.” says Waverly, with a nervous laugh. “Can I get you anything? Do you want a coffee, or a beer, or something?” 

Nicole’s just standing there. She shakes her head lightly. And then takes a deep breath.

"Wave, there’s no hurry with anything. You know that, right? But. Can you just come here a second?”

Waverly does, smiling, and then lets out a sigh from somewhere deep inside, as Nicole draws her into her arms for a long, steadying hug.

“I’ve wanted to do this so often, Wave.” Nicole’s voice is a little shaky.

“Mmnn. I’ve wanted you to.” Waverly’s is muffled, buried into Nicole’s embrace as she is.

"I love you."

Nicole says it quietly, reverently. And the feeling of holding Waverly, and saying the words that had been chasing round and round her head, day and night, for all those long months...

Her eyes felt hot, and she swallowed, ducked her head to place a long kiss to Waverly's head. And felt arms tighten around her in return, and then a hand stroke soft and steady up and down her back. A touch that said _I know_ , and _I understand_ , and, _me too_.

 

They stand there for a long moment, until the beat of their hearts is no longer from nerves or emotion, but because they are both starting to be aware of the feeling of each other; the sensation of their bodies connected, and the knowledge that there was now no reason now why they couldn’t be.

Waverly moves first, pulling back a little but still stood loose in Nicole’s arms, and lifts her eyes to her face, an unconscious smile breaking out as she looks as if for the first time, unabashedly, at Nicole. Studies her features, the smile on her lips, her brow now smooth and unfurrowed, the beautiful brown eyes a little glassy with emotion, looking back down at her with love. And then she leans up on tiptoes, and, closing her eyes, kisses her.

 

* * *

 

Ten minutes later and they’re upstairs, in Waverly’s bedroom, stood in the centre of the room, kissing each other, deeply, slowly, with a warmth already built, and the the promise of a blazing heat still to come. Waverly has already unbuttoned Nicole’s shirt, and now raises her hand up the seams, and pushes it back off Nicole’s shoulders. She feels like an explorer, bravely going to strange new places; or maybe a scientist, watching Nicole’s expression flicker and change, and cataloguing every unique reaction to every unique touch. Nicole’s got her eyes closed now, and as Waverly pulls the shirt down and off her arms, she sees her head tilt back for a second, and swallow. Her long neck looks good like that, so Waverly leans in, kisses it, and hears and feels an intake of breath as she does.

She draws back, leaves Nicole rooted in place, and moves round the side of her, placing a kiss to her shoulder as she goes, and then when she’s behind, to the dip between Nicole’s shoulders. There are a few freckles scattered there, which Waverly finds both sexy as all hell, and for some inexplicable reason, unbearably touching.

She moves her hands down to the clasp of Nicole’s bra, and murmurs.

“Can I?”

“Uh-huh.”

Nicole’s voice is faint.

She undoes the clasp, and then, slowly, as if not to startle Nicole, runs her hands up under the straps, and pushes them down, forward off her shoulders.

Nicole’s now stood, with that steady stillness that just radiates Nicole, naked from the waist up; and Waverly traces with the back of her fingers the soft curve of her back, running her hand from the fine auburn hair at her hairline, down and to the curve at the small of her back, seeing how that line disappears into the waistband of her jeans. Waverly thinks this is singularly the most erotic sight she’s seen in her life. But she wants to see more, so she completes her circle around Nicole, until she’s stood back in front of her.

She swallows, her mouth suddenly dry. She wasn’t quite sure what she’d feel on seeing this, but she hadn’t dreamed it would be quite this much; and in quite so many ways. The curve of her. The colour, and the shape. _God._

She looks up to Nicole’s face then, and her eyes crinkle with fondness as she almost laughs at the expression there. Nicole’s eyes are closed, and she can see her breathing shallow and fast, and there is a small crease between Nicole’s eyes, and she is biting one corner of her lip. The whole thing adds up to a frown; Waverly is pretty sure it is a good frown, but she needs to check, and check in, so she takes a step forward, and pulls Nicole’s arms around her waist again, and place her own on her shoulders, and whispers.

“Are you okay?”

“Mm-hmm. Yeah.”

Nicole opens her eyes, and the look Waverly sees there is of such patience and frustration and and desire and unshaking resolute strength, it’s so very Nicole that now she actually does laughs.

Nicole’s not annoyed or confused by this, just quirks her eyebrows and breathes out a puff of air in wry acknowledgement at what Waverly’s seeing in her. And explains in a whisper.

“This is new for you. And I want to take it at your pace. I don’t want to rush you, make you uncomfortable. But.”

Waverly plays with the hair at the nape of Nicole’s neck, causing her eyes to shut again, and a soft but audible exhale.

“But?"

There is a beat, before Nicole opens her eyes again, and looks at Waverly with an honest look.

“I am _so_ fucking turned on right now.”

Waverly laughs again, softly.

“You know what, Nicole? I don’t want to take it at my pace. I’ve wondered what this would be like for so long. I’ve wondered what _you’d_ be like. And now I want to know. I don’t want you to just do what I ask you to do. I want you to show me what you want to do. So.” She pulls Nicole’s head down for a kiss, just deep enough to make the point. “Show me.”

Nicole kisses her back. Forces herself to stop, to ask.

“Are you sure?”

A kiss.

“I’m so sure.”

“Yeah?”

Another kiss, and now their hands are moving again, and Waverly can feel what it feels like, to have Nicole’s naked front pressed to her, and she pulls a hand down from Nicole’s shoulders, and touches a breast, and feels a shiver in both her own body and in Nicole’s.

“Yes. Show me, Nicole. Show me.”

So Nicole does. She allows her hands their movement, allows the rhythm and the sway of their kiss to carry them over to Waverly’s bed, and whether she pushes or Waverly pulls neither know, but then they are on the bed, and Nicole is on her, and they’re kissing, and touching, and Nicole’s hands are going where they want to, down her hips, up her front, to her breasts, and Waverly moans at that, moans into Nicole’s kiss, and now there’s no turning back.

So they kiss, and touch, and one by one their clothes come off, until they’re lying side by side on the bed, naked, still kissing, but taking time to draw back and look in each other’s eyes, constantly checking in, constantly communicating wordlessly with their touches, their kisses, and their eyes.

Nicole still hasn’t touched her where she so needs her to. Waverly had surrendered to the amazing sensation that was Nicole taking her time, stripping her bare and then covering her up again, with kisses and touches and with her own long body, and it had been so very glorious Waverly had just let it wash over her, and gave herself over to the experience. But now she doesn’t know how much longer she can wait, and so she rolls onto her back, and pulls at Nicole to roll with her, which she does, settling on top of her, with their legs intertwined. She shifts her legs open a little more, feels Nicole push her thigh snugger in, and then she shivers, and swallows, and for a second is overwhelmed.

Nicole picks up on the shift in mood instantly, and stills. Takes a bit of weight off, and brings a hand up to Waverly’s face, stroking some sweat-damp strands of hair off Waverly’s face, looking down at her with love and concern.

“You okay? Too much?”

Waverly can’t speak, but shakes her head. Looks into Nicole’s soft brown eyes, and breathes, and is grounded.

“It’s just never felt like this, before.” she whispers.

“How so? Like, being with a woman you mean?”

“No. No. I can’t...like it’s. _Important_.”

There is a beat, and then Nicole nods.

“Yeah. I kinda get that.”

She leans down, and softly, tenderly, kisses Waverly’s lips.

And when Waverly kisses her back, it’s time. It’s time for her to finally slip her hand down Waverly’s body, and then between her legs, and for Waverly to gasp, and to move into the touch, and then they’re both moving, and touching, and it’s time, it’s time.

They rock together, and Waverly holds on, and Nicole’s touching her, and if she thought she’d been overwhelmed by sensation before, this was something else, this was another whole entire world completely...Waverly can feel tears rise in her eyes, and manages to blurt out a request to touch Nicole too.

“Later. Later. I want to feel this. I want to remember this. I want to concentrate on what this feels like. You feel so good, Waverly, so so good...”

Waverly starts to shake, and Nicole’s still moving on her, and the shaking gets stronger, and she’s pushing herself up into the rhythm of Nicole’s hand, and pulling Nicole down onto her, and she’s crying out, and crying, and it happens, she’s coming for Nicole, and Nicole keeps the touch there, and it’s so long, and so so good, and Waverly shakes, and moans, and her whole body arches, and then there’s a final surge of sparks, and she falls back, giddy, crying, and holding weakly on to Nicole who’s kissing her, kissing the tears from her cheeks, and then holding her, rocking her gently in place on the bed, their breathless bodies in touch their whole lengths, and their souls joined.

 

* * *

 

It's just the start. They give themselves and their bodies over completely to love; their hands, their mouths, their touch.

And there are whispered words. Quiet words, of discovery and sensation and need. Whispered with equal parts awe and love.

 

“ _Nicole_...that's so...so... _uh_ , so good.”

“Yeah...yeah...you feel good…so good...”

“Ni _cole_...I want to touch you too...can I...but...how can I…?”

“It’s easy, it's easy...here, I like it... _ahhhh._ ”

“There?”

“ _Fuck_. Oh god. Oh god. Oh _wow_...” 

“Like that?”

“Nnnnh fuuuck...oh god...oh Waves...yeah...oh my _god_ …” 

“mmnnnh...Nicole?”

“...yeah…?”

“I want...more.”

“More? Wave, I’m…”

“Please. Please. This is so amazing but I want...more of you. I don't know…”

“Okay, wait, wait, hold on. We can try...okay. How’s…?”

“ _Yeah.“_

“Yeah?”

“Uh-huh. Yes Nicole, please Nicole, yes, go on, please, yes...oh my… _yessss_...”

“You okay, you okay?”

“ _Yes._  Oh _fuck_ that's good. Jesus that feels _incredible_ Nicole.”

“You okay?”

“Uh-huh. Wait, come here, let me...again...okay”

“Oh... _Waverly_ ”

“Okay. Now.”

“Okay. Okay. Tell me if it's too much? Okay. Easy now. Here we go…”

“Yeah. Yeah. _Yeah_. Oh _God_ yeah.”

“Unnnhh...fuck...oh...Wave...oh Waves…”

“That's so… _so_...fucking... _good..._ ”

“Yeah? Yeah?”

“Yeah. Yes. _Yesss."_

“Oh love...oh god...I'm gonna, ahhh fuck I'm gonna…”

“Look at me. _Look_ at me Nicole. I love you. I love you.”

“Oh fuck oh love oh Waves oh _Waverly_...”

Then silence, as their bodies shout out instead this time, wild and uncontrolled and blissful and shattering and far far beyond anything either has ever, _ever_ known.

 

* * *

 

They sleep.

And when they wake, Nicole is irrepressible.

“I’m hungry. Are you hungry? Have you got anything in, I can make something? Ooh, have you got _waffles_? I could absolutely go a waffle.”

Waverly giggles. “You’re fun. This is going to be _fun_.”

“Well?” Nicole rolled on top of Waverly and mock glared down at her, expression softening as she sees the swallow and shiver that provokes, kisses her lightly on the nose and rolls off again, and moves to sit up.

“Seriously Wave, I’m starving.”

“Worked up an appetite, have we?”

Nicole grins. “Something like that, yes.”

Another indulgent laugh, and then Waverly sits up too, pulling the sheet up around herself. “We’ve not got much in, Nicole. Me and Wynonna were kinda living on take-out for a while there. But we could go out to the diner?”

“What, in the outside world?” A semi-serious pout. “I _guess_.”

“Aw, come on sweetie. They’ll have waffles…?”

It’s Nicole’s turn to laugh at the teasing, and then, not able to stop herself, she cuddle-tackles Waverly in jubilation, pulling them both back down to the bed in a tangle of sheets and bodies and simple happy laughs.

It’s another hour later, but they finally manage to get themselves up, showered, dressed, and out.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cough* let's all just pretend that never happened shall we?
> 
> Just three very very short chapters to go. Word count wise they could easily have been combined into one chapter, but thematically I wanted each to stand on its own, so I hope you'll understand me spinning this out.


	13. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can never have too many families.

They go to the same diner they’d had their first long conversation in, and both realise it as they shovel their late second breakfast down, smiling at each other in recognition of that fact through mouths full of waffles and syrup, whilst they hold hands over the table, this time caressing and stroking each other’s hand unashamedly. Like both had wanted to all those months ago, and like they now finally could.

When they’re done they stop by the store for dinner supplies, not wanting to have to go back out again, and head back to the homestead. When they get there the enforced decency of being in the outside world has them tearing at each other’s clothes the second they get back in, laughing at themselves and their teenaged behaviour, as they fumble and stumble their way up the stairs to Waverly’s room, and they fall into bed, and already they’re so sure of what they’re doing, they’re straight to the point, they’re on fire.

And then after they’ve burned, they go again, this time slow and idle and explorative and thorough. And then they think they’re done, lying next to each naked, sated, and half asleep, too hot to hold each other, but loosely holding hands, and Nicole nudging a foot against the bottom of Waverly's in a nudge of _hello there_ and _I love you from top to toe_. But then as their sweat cools they come together for a warming hug, and then they kiss, and then they're kissing a little too well, and pulses pick up, and before they know it they’re there again, loving each other again. And after, hardly knowing where one ends and the other begins, they fall into a deep, heavy and blissed out sleep.

When they wake, it’s early evening, and they’re finally ready to pause proceedings for a while, and shower again, and put on clothes, and get up.

 

* * *

 

They’re lying on the sofa, half-eaten dinner discarded and forgotten about as they just cuddle into each other, watching they-don’t-care-what on the TV, when they hear a knock on the door, then Wynonna’s voice.

“If I walk in now am I going to see something I profoundly regret?”

Waverly laughs, and calls out “Come on in, Wy, you’re fine.”

She comes in, holding Alice in one arm, and seeing this the two of them disentangle and get up from their happy sprawl, Nicole helping Wynonna off with a massive bag of diapers and baby supplies, and Waverly cooing at a sleepy Alice.

“I didn’t expect to see you two up and about.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” says Waverly, primly, and then rolls her eyes at herself and grins when Wynonna gives her a pointed stare, answering the questioning raise of Wynonna's eyebrows with a shy nod, and a shrug and a beaming smile, that says, yes, and my _god_ Wynonna, and, we’ll talk later; and Wynonna’s knowing chuckle and hip bump says I’m happy for you, but really, let's not.

Nicole’s just stood there while all this unspoken sister communication is going on, a little awkwardly, not sure of her place amongst the family reunion, when Waverly gestures for her to sit back down on the couch.

“Sit. There’s someone I want you to meet. Wynonna, can I?”

Waverly carefully takes Alice from Wynonna’s arms, bouncing on the balls of her feet and softly singing “Hey there, hey there” to comfort the slight mewl of protest from Alice. When she’s calm again, Waverly bends and gently places Alice in Nicole’s arms.

Who looks down at the wriggling, snuffling baby, and unselfconsciously murmurs nonsense words as she rocks and bounces her. “Hey there Alice, oof there, little Alice, cutie Alice, hey there little girl, sleepy time, hmm, sleepy Alice.”

“Oh, sure, behave for Nicole why don't you, you wouldn't shut up earlier on when it was just me and Doc.” Wynonna grumbles; but there's a smile in her voice.

“She’s an Earp. Of course she likes Nicole.” says Waverly, matter of factly.

Nicole ignores them both. She's lost in adoration for the bundle in her arms, a goofy smile on her face as she watches the baby wriggle and stretch. So she doesn’t notice Wynonna put an arm around Waverly, who’s beaming down at the pair of them.

Waverly lets them bond for a second, and then comes and sits next to Nicole, and reaches out to put a finger against Alice’s palm, and smiles in wondering satisfaction when the child holds on, and opens her eyes curiously, then closes them again, gurgling a bubbling snotty baby gurgle.

“This is your Aunt Nicole,” Waverly whispers to Alice in a sing-song voice. “The bestest cop in all the land. Did you know that she saved your Aunty Waverly from a sad and lonely life, wandering the long straight roads of the Ghost River Triangle, all by herself?”

“Straight roads? She certainly rescued you from them." Wynonna chuckles at her own joke, ignored by the couple on the couch, who are both now purely focussed on Alice. Who then grumbles, and then her tiny hands wave in the air, and her face splits into a frankly enormous yawn for such a little baby, prompting laughter from both Waverly and Nicole.

Nicole gets up with her. “Is it her bedtime?” She gestures as if to hand Alice back, but Wynonna doesn’t move to take her, just looks appraisingly at Nicole, and then Waverly, and then back to Alice, now sleeping contentedly in Nicole’s arms.

“Why don’t you put her down. Come on Haught, I’ll take you through.”

Nicole follows Wynonna through to her room, cooing softly for Alice, and Waverly watches the two go, wiping a tear from her eye as so many emotions rise as she understands what her sister is doing. Accepting and welcoming Nicole into their family.

 

* * *

 

Waverly and Nicole are so bone tired with all the emotions of the day, not to mention of the past few months, that shortly after that they head off to bed, too. There’s no discussion of Nicole going home, despite not having clothes, or a toothbrush, or anything. Practicalities can wait for another time, they both think. Let us have our day of magic.

They’re so tired in fact, that neither of them have stopped yawning since Alice set them off. As Waverly cuddles up and into Nicole’s embrace again, never getting enough of the warm press of her, she says, a little embarrassed.

“Is it really bad that I just want to go to sleep now?”

Nicole laughs, eyes closed, and completely content. “Not at all. Anyway, I think we did alright, today, don't you?”

Waverly giggles.

" _Hell_  yeah. But tomorrow?”

Nicole yawns hugely again. “Count on it. Tomorrow.”

They’re quiet for a minute, drifting off.

“I love you, Nicole.” Waverly whispers.

She feels a long, tight, squeeze of Nicole’s arms around her.

“I love you too.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nicole Would Be The Best Mum™.
> 
> Also, quick shout out to Wynonna. I love her character so much, and would watch the show with just her in. My fics always focus on Wayhaught, cos, hello, All Homo All the Time over here, but I always try to get a hefty cameo in for her. She's incredibly difficult to write for, but that makes for a good challenge... anyway. I think it's generally acknowledged that Waves and Nicole are good for her, but I think the same is definitely true in reverse. I'd like to think the little nudges the Wynonna has given these two in this story are reflective of the fact she frequently has to make the tough calls in the show. She would've seen these two were end game and that there was no way out of it without someone losing out, way before Waves or Nicole, or Chris for that matter got there.
> 
> Anyway. I love her to bits, and am beyond stoked to see her season 3 incarnation in eeee a matter of days :) :)


	14. A New Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waverly and Nicole wake up to a new day together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, the timing of this is ridiculous. 
> 
> I swear to God I had this chapter written a month ago, and once I started posting this fic day by day this chapter was always going to come out today, and even though it's only a tiny wee single scene thing it's kinda always been the heart of this story...and then I check Twitter last night and EA has only gone and given us the softest, the sexiest, the emotion-ist (yeah that's not a word but it's three in the morning as I write this don't sue me) sneak peak ever about Waves and Nicole waking up together at the Homestead which is _literally the point of this chapter_ and therefore COMPLETELY blown this little update clean out of the water.
> 
> Pfffft. I'm not complaining, really. Nicole in that tank top and Waves looking out the window? May well be my new sexuality.
> 
> But anyway. This is *my* (now rather inadequate reading) version of their morning at the homestead.

Nicole is shaken awake, and takes a few seconds to come to, confused as to what's happening, as it’s still dark and doesn't feel anywhere near time to be waking. She blearily registers Waverly’s dressed in a warm sweater and long pyjama bottoms, and, blinking sleep from her eyes, just manages a sleepy, confused,

“What’sa matter?”

“Sorry, I know it’s early, but there’s something I want you to see. Here, I made coffee. Drink.” 

Nicole sat up, confused, and sleep still clinging on as she takes reluctant sips from the hot coffee. Waverly climbs back into bed next to her, with a nervous energy that starts to wake Nicole up faster than the caffeine can.

“ ‘s everything okay, Wave?”

“Everything’s perfect. I’ve checked, and it’s going to be perfect.”

Nicole's brain isn't yet firing on all cylinders, and she can’t work out if she's missing something obvious, or if this is some kind of weird dream. So she just says again, “What?”

Waverly giggles at how cute Nicole’s sleep-thick, confused tone sounds. She just takes one of Nicole's hands under the covers, and squeezes.

"Just drink your coffee, baby."

They sit there for a little while in silence, Nicole waking up gradually, and in truth now enjoying the moment. How many nights over the last few months had she woken up at this hour, aching and lonely and upset and trapped? She could scarcely believe that she was now sitting here, with Waverly actually next to her instead of an ache in her heart. She was here, and warm, and real; holding her hand, alternately resting her head on Nicole's shoulder, or when Nicole takes a sip of her drink, pulling back a little, and Nicole can't see but can feel, smiling at her.

After a few quiet minutes Waverly gets out of bed, takes the mostly-drunk coffee from Nicole's hands, and pulls on them instead.

“Come on, you. Up and at ‘em. You’ll need this, here.”

Waverly picks up and helps Nicole into a sweater, giving her a little kiss as Nicole’s head pops through the neck hole, and then taking her hand, quietly opens her door, and they creep down the stairs together. 

 

Waverly leads them all the way outside and to the bench on the porch. There she finally drops Nicole’s hand, and busily re-arranges the long bench cushion, pulling one end up and over the arm at one side as a back rest, the rest forming the start of a seat to sit on. She gestures for Nicole to take her place there, and Nicole obediently does so, shivering at the thin cold night air, then Waverly picks up a blanket that had been folded at the other end of the bench, and settles herself in front of Nicole, between her legs, and arranges the blanket tightly around both of them.

Nicole starts to relax with Waverly back in her arms, leans her head against the corner post of the bench, and closes her eyes a minute. She starts to drift, until Waverly notices and shakes one of Nicole’s legs.

“Hey, no sleeping.”

“ ‘s middle of the night, Wave. ‘s for sleeping.”

“It’s not the middle of the night. That’s the point. Just...watch.” 

“What am I watching for?”

“Look at the sky, Nicole.”

She does. Waverly’s right, it’s not quite night now, but you couldn’t say it was dawn yet either. Nicole can see the clear boundary between the pure ink black below the horizon line and the just about lighter slate grey of the sky above it. She notices how that grey falls darker as she looks higher up, until above them it’s true night still, with the brighter stars till visible.

“I used to come out here and do this when I was little.” Waverly starts talking, in a quiet, contemplative tone.

“I thought you left here when…”

“Mm. Yeah, I mean when I was really little.”

“Waves? What were you doing out here as a six-year-old?”

There is a long silence, and Nicole lets Waverly take her time. She can see the sky is changing even in the time they’ve been sitting there, with the grey creeping up and up, chasing the stars out of the sky, and the dark silvery grey behind the mountains, now starting to be painted with their own shade of not-quite-black, starts colouring to a deep rich blue. The blue of the sea on a moonless night.

“Momma and Daddy used to fight, before she left. I don’t really remember that, to be honest, but Wynonna tells me I used to get into bed with her when it was bad."

The dark blue begins to fade, the depth of colour falling from the sky, and something closer to morning light than the night-time's dark creeping in all around them.

"I do remember later, though. When Daddy drank. Oh, he’d make one hell of a racket, Nicole. Swearing and falling about, and throwing things. I remember being scared, and coming into Wynonna’s to sleep. But we could still hear him in her room...it's downstairs, right? She’d have been, what, eleven or twelve by then. She doesn’t talk about it, but I think she probably couldn’t stand it even more than me. She'd have understood more about what it all meant. I was just a kid, and it was scary, sure, but I don't think..."

Waverly trails off, sighs. Nicole shook her head silently, and gave Waverly a gentle comforting squeeze. Placed a soft kiss to Waverly’s shoulder, then just holds her head bent against Waverly for a long time, eyes closed, trying to pour all her love for her into the embrace. As if somehow with that she could comfort the child that Waverly had been, too.

When she feels Waverly take a deep breath, seemingly ready to go on, she raises her head and opens her eyes again. The sky had lightened further, and for the first time, there was a hint of warmth to the blue. A tint of pale yellow has started to show, just above the crest of the mountains.

“So when it was warm enough, and sometimes when it wasn't, she’d sneak us out here. And, you know what kids are like Nicole, we’d fall right asleep, just like that.”

The pale yellow warms through ochre, and then, for the first time, there’s a hint of red. Night has gone completely from the rest of the sky, which is now its own fading colour palette of pale blue stretching fully from horizon to horizon. Nicole can now see some colour creeping into the land as well, picking out green greys of the fields, the blue greys of the mountains, and the hint of white at their peaks.

“And if we were out here that usually meant summer, which meant an early dawn. And when it started to get light, we’d wake up again.”

She breaks off.

“Shh.” she says, unnecessarily. “It’s happening.”

Nicole watches, holding one of Waverly’s hands under the blanket, and feeling Waverly move a thumb back and forward on hers, not sure if the movement was supposed to comfort Nicole, or herself.

The red catches on the underside of long, thin clouds, previously invisible but now coloured with the faint painterly lines of red beneath, and slate grey blue above.

And then the movement of even Waverly's thumb stills, and then Nicole sees it, there’s a burst of gold at the top of the mountaintops, as the sun rising behind them catches the snow, and it sparks, and for a brief moment there’s a line of molten gold all the way across the horizon line.

She feels Waverly hold her breath, and then slowly release it, as the gold softens again, and then the mountaintops fade to their true snowy white, and day has come, and the sky is light, and the secret private magic of the liminal moment fades away to an open and beautiful dawn.

Waverly squeezes her hand she holds once, and then carries on as if she'd never paused.

“And we’d watch the sun come up together, and Daddy would be inside, snoring away, and with the night gone and the sun up, we’d feel like it was all okay again. Like everything was going to be okay.”

Nicole took her own deep and shaky breath, a little rocked by the emotion of the story, and the trust of Waverly to share it with her.

Then she felt Waverly sit forward, and turn, and she looked into Nicole’s eyes with such a look of love, and Nicole felt a pull in her stomach as she realised that this sight was more beautiful to her than even a thousand dawns. 

“And that’s how I felt when I met you, Nicole. Like it was a new day, and that everything would be okay.”

 

Nicole blinks back tears. How on earth could she even begin to put into words a response to all that?

She couldn’t. Of course she couldn’t.

“I love you, so, _so_ much, Waverly.”

She leans forward, and Waverly closes her eyes, and a soft half smile of anticipation plays on her face, and Nicole waits a second, drinking in the beauty of Waverly, the planes of her face now highlighted by the true gold rays of dawn, and lit from inside by a contentment and happiness that Nicole knew, but could still scarcely believe, was because of _her_ ; she waits, and then turns her head, and leans to Waverly, and kisses her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter, and the recurring theme of night and dawn throughout this whole fic, was brought to you courtesy of the fact I have spent a *lot* of time up on me own in the middle of the night.
> 
> There is a sadness and loneliness to that, sure, but also a secret, and a beauty. And that’s kinda the emotional notes I've been trying to aim for in the writing of this story. Hope I've done that mood justice.
> 
>  
> 
> I should say this is the last real chapter of our story, with just a very very short epilogue to go tomorrow. Thank you all so much for all the kudos, comments and support, it's meant so much to me I can't even begin to explain.


	15. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A reprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys.
> 
> The response to this story has been _so _amazing. Thank you so, so much. I honestly thought there'd only a couple of folk interested in this one; it's such a fraught concept. And the pain was just so full on, I was kinda expecting most people who did start reading to drop out along the way.__
> 
> __I hope those of you who made it this far think it was worth it in the end._ _
> 
> Thank you so much for reading. And for those leaving kudos or comments, an extra special nervous author's thanks. :)
> 
> Happy New Season Eve - for you folks lucky enough to be getting it tomorrow! Think of us poor fools in countries that don't, and gif the shit out of any Wayhaught goodness! ;-)
> 
> Seda  
> xxx

Waverly lay on the bench on the porch, watching the first rosy shades of morning colour the slate grey night sky. It was cold, and she shivered a little, wrapped up though she was in warm clothes and a blanket.

She heard the porch door open, and smiled without turning, just shifting forward in the seat and waiting, until Nicole shuffled in behind her, wrapped long arms around her waist, and pulled her back against her chest as Waverly resettled the blanket around both of them. She was as toasty warm as always, and Waverly sighed as she melted into her embrace, watching the faint puffs of their warm breath mingle and then dissipate in the cold morning air.

“Ouch. That’s stiff.” said Nicole mildly, as she bent and straightened one leg a couple of times.

“Knee still hurting you, sweetie?” Waverly found the knee under the blanket and put her hand on it, rubbed a little, then just let her hand rest, letting the warmth soak through as she felt Nicole flex it a little, then let it be; and she could feel Nicole’s body relax a little behind her.

“Mm. It’s these cold mornings, you know. Old bones.”

“Aw. My poor baby.”

They sat in silence for a while, just watching the slow dawn, and enjoying the embrace.

“You’re up early again.”

“Yeah. Just woke up. Can you imagine if we used to be able to get by on this amount of sleep, Nicole? Imagine how much more we could’ve got done.”

“What, in our careers, or…” Nicole pulls back a wisp of hair that had fallen out of Waverly’s messy bun, hair now greying and a little finer than it used to be; and kisses Waverly’s neck, with just enough firmness and intent to finish her question.

Waverly shivers. All these years later, and an infinity of kisses, and Nicole still makes Waverly shiver. She smiles, putting a little reproach in her voice.

“Nicole. Behave.”

She feels rather than hears the chuckle behind her, low in Nicole’s chest.

They’re quiet, again.

“This reminds me of that morning, you know.”

Waverly feels Nicole’s arms tighten around her waist briefly in understanding. It did for her, too.

“I was thinking about when we got together. Do you think if it hadn’t have been so hard, maybe we wouldn’t have fought so much for it? Do you think it was the difficulty that made us so strong?”

Nicole’s reply is unhesitating. “No love. I think we would’ve ended up here regardless.

“Mmm. What if it was harder?”

“God. Harder? Not sure how.”

“No. No, fair point.”

Nicole sighed. An old sigh.  “I’m sorry it was so difficult. I wish it had been different. I’m sorry I was with her when I met you.”

“I’m not. Chris was what you needed at that time in your life. You agree with me too, Nicole, I know you do, deep down.” Waverly found and stroked one of Nicole’s hands, to show it was okay. This long ago pain mellowed and matured with age, until it was just one of life’s lessons. "And Chris might never have travelled if it weren't for it all, and met Jan...it was all for the best, you know that."

"Yeah. I know. I just...I wish I hadn’t married her, you know. I wish you could’ve been my first, and only.”

“It’s okay. I’m your last, right?” Waverly paused, and then carried on in an amused, vague tone. “Anyway, I basically got married to a _skull_ before you, so I’m really not in a position to talk…”

Nicole laughed out loud. “God. Waverly Haught, and here I thought I knew everything there was to know about you. How did I miss that one?”

A giggle, and a dismissive wave of the hand. “Oh, ancient Earp-stuff history. Anyway, it didn’t last. It bit the dust roundabout the same time Champ did. Round about the time I worked out that I was yours.”

Nicole pressed a smiling kiss into the back of Waverly's shoulder.

"You knew you were mine all the way back then?”

“Mmhmm. I’d always been yours, Nicole. We just needed to meet first, and then wait for the right time.”

There’s a long, slow, gentle squeeze of the arms around Waverly.

“I love you so much, Wave. So so much. I’m sorry I couldn’t start my life with you. But I’m so glad we’re going to end it together.”

Waverly turns in Nicole’s arms, and for the first time that morning they meet eyes, and both get a little shock, a little thrill, the thrill that has always been there when they look at each other, when they see and are seen.

“Hey.” Waverly says softly. “Enough talk of endings, okay? We’ve got all the time in the world, Nicole.”

They hold each other’s eyes, the subtlest smile enough these days, their connection so practised and bone deep and warm.

Waverly leans, and kisses Nicole, a slow, soft, practised kiss. And then she turns back, and relaxes in Nicole’s arms, and they sit, and watch the dawning of another day, together.


End file.
